How to Save a life
by Cristy Daae
Summary: Detective VanCartia is the only female detective in 1890's Paris. When she is commissioned to solve a recent murder at the Opera Garnier, She finds herself entangled in a world of intrigue and deception. And only one Man can guide her through it.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

When I think of all of the cases I have worked on, only one stands out as the most physically and emotionally trying of them all. It happened when I had been commissioned for an Opera House. The opera Garnier, The Paris Opera House, Opera Populair, I shall leave the choice of its title to you because this gaudy building was known by many names and by one dark secret that was hidden in the bowels of the structure. Being the 'Great' Vanessa VanCartia, I am the only female detective in Paris at the time, and at risk of sounding too proud, the most successful detective, period. I have never failed in my career, not once. But that reputation for success had nearly been destroyed by my involvement with the most mysterious of men, one who bordered an enigma. He was dastardly, but good; Simple, yet complex; Clever, and yet unknowing of issues of the heart. He was a jumble of opposites, a perfect duality, and I found myself drawn to him. Only Erik had made me feel so untrained and clumsy. He had a dangerous air that was in no way an act. And my life changed on a fateful morning in 1890.

**Chapter one**

**The murder**

_Vanessa_

The sun shone brightly on the morning of October the fifth in 1890, flooding through the large bay windows. I was in my private library reading a new novel by Charles Dickens, when I was interrupted by a knock at the door. My maid, Natalie, entered and curtsied.

"Oh don't bother with all of that. Just tell me what it is you want," I snapped, marking my page and setting the book on my desk. I peered at my maid over a pair of reading glasses. Her face went pink with embarrassment. The poor girl had just started her employment with me and was still adjusting to my views.

To say I was a difficult mistress was an understatement. I ran my days more precisely than Pheneas Fogg. I rose at the same time every day, had my meals at the same time, and ran my life in an orderly fashion. Add onto the fact that I treated everyone like my equal, and expected to be treated the same, and you effectively had the strangest employer in the country. I hate bowing or curtsying of any kind. It is a ridiculous form of respect when a simple handshake will suffice.

"Well, Mlle. VanCartia, there is a gentleman here to see you…," Natalie began.

"Natalie, please call me Vanessa. There is no need for formalities between us," I interrupted. I noticed Natalie blush again as she stammered an apology. She then told me that the gentlemen needed to speak with me and seemed to require my services as a detective.

"Very well, tell him that I will be with him in a moment," I sighed, putting on a housecoat over my shirt, vest, and suit pants. I then headed out the door and down the hall. I entered my parlor where across from me sat a heavy set man in a plum suit and who wore the most absurd pompadour. I recognized him immediately. He was a rich business man who was trying too hard to impress our still remaining aristocracy of France.

"Detective VanCartia?" He asked nervously, rising to his feet. A hopeful gleam was in his eyes.

"I am she. How may I be of service to you Monsieur?" I shook the man's hand.

"Firmin, Richard Firmin," The man jumped at an unasked or implied question.

"Yes, I know. You are one of two managers' of the Opera Garnier, is that correct?"

"Well…yes, but how…," The Manager stuttered.

"My good man, believe me or not, you and your esteemed colleague have been the talk of the town since that fiasco of the missing diva, which I might add is still unsolved. I recognized you from the papers. Also your carriage and demeanor is that of a man of power and leadership; even if he is held in sway to the whims of a certain woman," I responded in polite condescension.

"You have got that right," He whispered to himself, "She's a nightmare." He chuckled.

'As the great Carlotta is prone to be,' I thought to myself, a small hidden smile etched across my face. It was no secret that the opera's lead singer and current diva was infamous for her temper and high maintenance ways. She was reportedly as fiery as her hair color.

"Monsieur Firmin, what exactly is the problem? I can assure you that everything said here is held in confidence," I went straight to business, all traces of amusement gone. Uncertainty fell over the manager as he fixed me with a pleading stare. He was in desperate trouble. I reached across and rested my hand on his folded ones.

"You can trust me," I encouraged, giving him a nod to say what he needed to.

"An employee of the opera has been murdered. A man named Count Francis DeSanderville," Firmin answered.

"A count was an employee of the Opera?"

"He was part patron, part production designer. We were more of a hobby to him than a job. He was an artistic soul and a good man. The Opera is in an uproar over it and we've had a hard time trying to keep everything hushed up. Who would want to kill a man so unobtrusive? All of the ballet rats keep shrieking about the culprit being the Phantom…,"

"The Phantom," I asked, "how operatic." A quiet giggle escaped from me. This scenario was starting to become far too familiar, a person taking advantage of others through clever tricks and an impressive name.

"He is no laughing matter, Mademoiselle," Firmin shot at me. "He was a scoundrel. He robbed us twice without a trace, and we never even saw him. He was also behind the Chandelier falling. Thankfully, he hasn't made his presence known in nine years. It is safe for us to assume he's dead. We haven't heard from him since the last incident."

"That is because Detective Mifroid was on the case, and he is nothing better than a novice," I said, not bothering to hide my harsh criticism. I went over to the mantle and poured to glasses of cognac. I then continued while handing one of the glasses to the manager.

"Monsieur, I do not advise you to believe that your assumption is at all well founded. This 'phantom' may not have been active for several years, but that doesn't in any way prove that he is, in fact, dead."

"So you believe that it was a ghost that killed poor Francis too?" Firmin spoke up quickly, protective anger written on his face.

"No. The Phantom is a man of flesh and blood who assumed the title in order to manipulate others. It is nothing more than a façade. You know this, I know this, and all of Paris knows this. After all, He did appear in one of your shows, did he not?" I answered calmly, "Now, if you will permit me, I would like to handle this case."

"Please do. The police are already working the case and have so far turned up nothing useful. I would feel more comfortable knowing that a detective such as you was also working on catching the culprit," Richard rambled. "But as to regards of your fee…."

"It won't be inexpensive. It will be 2,000 francs up front and an additional 100 francs per week that I work the case. You must have no fears that I will cheat you of your hard earned money sir. I am an honest woman; it is the same for anyone who wishes for my services." I cut him off with a tone that said no exceptions.

"2,000 francs!" Firmin exclaimed. "I could hire ten other detectives for that amount…"

"Other detectives are indeed less expensive than I, but none of them have the skill or abilities as I do. If you want the job done right and an arrest involved, you had best grit your teeth and bear it," I said coldly, steepling my finger tips together as I stared at Firmin's exasperated features.

"Oh very well…," Monsieur Firmin sighed, defeated.

"Wonderful," I said cheerily as I wrote out a simple contract. I signed it with a flourish before turning to the Manager.

"I'll be there tomorrow morning. I'm pleased that we could come to this agreement," I handed the paper to the frazzled man as I lead him to the door and watched as his brougham pulled down the street. I entered the house and smiled. I had a case that seemed ready to exercise my full ability. Later that night I sat in the parlor watching the fire flicker on the grate.

"Madame," the voice of my butler, Johann, interrupted my wandering train of thought. "This arrived for you."

I took an envelope labeled _to Vanessa VanCartia, personal_ from his outstretched hand. Contained within was my upfront payment. I was officially on the case.

The next morning was cold with a drizzle of rain falling continually. It was a sure sign that winter was around the corner. I made my way up the icy marble steps of the popular Opera House. I will admit that it was a bit grand for me. The French doors were made of dark cherry wood and gleamed with an over polished shine. The sarancolin columns of the main foyer and lobby supported a mountainous grand staircase. Crystal chandeliers hung every couple of feet down the corridors to the boxes. It was all together too much opulence for my conservative tastes. I handed my sopping hat and coat to a coat room attendant as I examined my surroundings.

"Excuse me," I said, grabbing a passing official by the elbow. He did a double take as he noticed that I was a woman dressed as a man. I arched an eyebrow, silently daring him to say anything about it. He raised a hand in a passive gesture, clearly getting the picture.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me where I may find the managers?"

"They are in the auditorium." The man responded, running to the administration wing.

I thanked the man as he pelted around the corner. The sound of shouting echoed down the Grand Staircase.

_Great, just what I need, a singer with a permanent bad attitude._

There was bound to be a conflict. For some reason simpering, sly women who manipulated others to get what they wanted just angered me. Carlotta was one of those women. Oh she worked alright… at whining.

I climbed the stairs and meandered my way into the auditorium. Inside I witnessed firsthand the validity of Carlotta's rumors. I braced myself against the back wall and watched the scene unfold.

"Where ees mah doggie, I want my doggie," The red head shouted at the top of her lungs.

_This should be interesting_, I thought. As I mused the woman began barging down the aisle, but halted when she saw me. I immediately went defensive.

"Ou ees she?"

"I'm the detective, Signora."

"Ou 'ave already hired my replacement?" the diva screeched, clearly having not heard me.

"Madame, Please…," I responded scathingly, cutting through her decibels surprisingly well. "I would never stoop so low as to ruin my reputation." The assembly fell silent, most looking like they were about to burst into laughter. Everyone, except Carlotta, that is.

"Ow dare you! Do you know who ah am?" The singer exclaimed, puffing up with injured hubris.

"Yes I know who you are. You aren't even worth my time." I patronized, smugly guiding Carlotta to the door, opening it for her to the lobby.

"Ah ave never been so rudely treated in my life." I watched the woman flounce out the door with her retinue and shut it behind her. Silence filled the auditorium.

"I do hope that hasn't hurt the opera." I sighed after a moment. I felt the two Managers squeeze their way through the crowd that had begun to blossom on the stage.

"Don't worry about it. She'll be back tomorrow after she cools her heels." Firmin's familiar bass assured. I turned to face him. I could see that he was impressed by my boldness with Carlotta. Well, someone needed to make her understand her place.

"Monsieur, may I speak with you and your partner?"

"What it is it?"

"Just a few minor notes, sirs," I began. "Number one, I request that the crime scene remains strictly off limits. Number two, I'll need to see the witnesses, and they will have to be placed on administrative leave…."

"There are no witnesses…" The second Manager, Moncharmin I believe his name was, cut in. He fixed me with a clever blue eyed gaze.

"Damn," I muttered. "Well, Gentlemen, Please lead me to the crime scene." The two managers nodded in affirmation, and lead me to a spot that had been roped off so… er…creatively, that I knew immediately that the police had been there. I reset the situation mentally as I listened to the manager's description of it.

"We found him late at night with a broken neck, obviously from a fall from the catwalks, the police think it's a suicide, like Joseph Buquet's all those years ago."

"This was odd, seeing as he was a perfectly happy man." Moncharmin added.

"But what was even stranger was that he was found with an expression of surprise on his face. We personally conjecture that Francis had been having an affair with one of the dancers or employees and a jealous lover killed him after…" Firmin continued.

"He had been with the woman," I finished his sentence. "Well, gentlemen, you have a murder on your hands. This has all the earmarks of one."

Now to find who said murderer was. As I thought this Moncharmin expressed my concern, "But, whom?"

I headed out of the building, slipping my hat and coat on. There were many cases a year involving suicide; this clearly wasn't one of them. All of the signs were there. I wasn't so sure that it was the lady's other lover, as the managers put it, which had killed the Count. But whom indeed, a friend of the adulterous pair, or the woman herself? And what of this mysterious Phantom of the Opera that the management seemed to be so terrified of? That was a side case I intended to solve. I stalked through the soaked streets to the police department determined to get the evidence. Without it I wouldn't have a case to build upon. Not long after leaving the Opera I saw the police building loom into sight. I raced across the street, trying to avoid the puddles of rain. I hurried through the oak doors and headed to the Chief Inspector's office. I wasn't at all excited about seeing the man. We had never gotten along. In Fact, He was the reason I was a private investigator instead of working for the city. I approached the secretary.

"Tell Chief Inspector Ledoux that I wish to see him."

"No need, I already know." An unpleasant voice responded behind me. I turned coolly to see Christophe Ledoux glaring at me, a stack of files in the crook of one arm. His dark brunette hair was slicked back to an oily shine, and his brown eyes held disdain.

"Good afternoon."

"What do you want?" he asked as he walked to his office. I followed on his heels. Ledoux's office was in its usual disarray. Paperwork was scattered all over the desk. Ledoux sat down and began to start his work.

"I need the evidence for The DeSanderville case. I've been hired by the Opera." I stated my request as civilly as possible despite the fact that I was starting to get rankled.

"I heard about that. I must say that I'm not impressed by their choice. The evidence to that case belongs to the police department. Unless you have a notice from a judge, I'm not giving you anything. Good Day, Mademoiselle."

"I'm working the same case, I need that evidence."

"No. Besides, how can a_ woman_ hope to solve this case when we weren't able to identify a culprit?" Ledoux sneered, finally granting me the honor of his full attention. I gave him a death glare to chastise the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" I was so utterly livid, I could barely speak.

"You heard me. A woman's place is in the home, being a mother." Ledoux said.

"Can we skip this part of the dance please? You've made your opinion of women's roles clear to me years ago." I snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Let me just say this, Christophe. We are entering a new century where women are going to play more vital roles in society. I suggest you, and your medieval thinking, catch up. Now, I need that evidence so I can once again finish the job you started."

"I told you, get a warrant, or I'm not handing them over."

"GIVE ME THE DAMN EVIDENCE!"

* * * *

_The Phantom _

_(As written by Erik)_

I sat laughing in the manager's office as I left a note for them. It was obvious that all of the Opera employees' thoughts were flooded and muddled. Come to think about it, so were mine. Slightly. Who was this detective, really? She was so bizarre, judging by what I'd seen unfolding on stage. I had to commend her for standing up to the Banshee. When Mademoiselle Le Inspecteur appeared in the auditorium, it was almost a scene from a comedy. The contrast against the feminine extravagance of la Carlotta was so stark the whole Opera House knew that Mademoiselle Le Inspecteur wasn't like other people (let alone other women). Even I sensed that she wasn't a woman to play games with. I knew something had to be done to keep her from poking around where she didn't belong. The sound of voices drew me from my thoughts. I ducked into the secret passage behind the oak bureau, leaving a crack to listen through. I heard Firmin apologize for hiring such an expensive private investigator as the two idiotic managers entered the ornate office.

"Nonsense, Richard, I trust your choice." Moncharmin responded, sitting at the mahogany desk. "After our last run in with you-know- who, I know you wouldn't place the Opera's assets in danger."

_Well speak of the devil_, I smirked, knowing that Moncharmin was talking about me. I hadn't thought I had left that deep of an impression on those two.

As Richard sat down, rifling through the mail the secretary handed him, he suddenly froze, his gaze fixated on a letter addressed in red ink and sealed with a red wax skull. I grinned in satisfaction. Their jaws dropped at the same time and their complexions turned to a pale mottled porridge, as the first letter they had received from me in ten years took its full presence. To them I was a ghost back from the grave, to me; it was a reclaiming of my power and influence over this theater.

"You read it."

"No you read it."

"No, no, you read it, I insist."

"No, I insist."

Finally, Moncharmin opened the letter and began to read aloud.

_My dear Directors,_

_I have noticed a detective in the backstage area of the Opera. While what you do with your business is no longer any of my concern, I insist that you warn her to not cross me or you will find more than the Count's death on your hands. Be sure to follow my instructions this time. To a better understanding._

_Your obedient friend and servant,_

_O.G_

Their blood froze. I could see it clearly. Moncharmin turned to Firmin and simply handed him the letter. Moncharmin waited as Firmin reread the note.

"Well, what do you think of the situation?" he asked.

"He's not asking for much, now is he?" Firmin mused. "Why not cater to his wishes?" they nodded to each other and continued their day, certain that somewhere in the shadows, a fiend was watching, a wicked smile on his face. Me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Riddles

_Vanessa_

The morning after my introduction to the Opera Garnier broke dry and cold. I had the windows open in an attempt to keep me awake after a night of examining pages and pages of fingerprints. Now I found myself scouring the pages of news papers nine years out of date. I was reading about the incidences less than a decade prior. I was bound and determined to piece the jigsaw puzzle of the story together. A gut instinct was telling me that this murder was connected to the vanishment of Christine Daae. Just as I was about to give up for the day, a story caught my eye.

_Mysterious Disappearance at the Palace Garnier_

_This Past Saturday, the Paris Opera House has experienced another tragedy. The body of Count Philippe De Chagney has finally been found in the underground lake beneath the Opera House. But over shadowing still is the disappearance of singer Christine Daae from the ranks of the actors._

_"We have no comments at this time," said Richard Firmin, one of two newest managers, concerning the disappearance of their greatest ingénue. "We assure everyone that the police are searching for the culprit behind this crime." Yet the culprit has yet to be found. So what does this mean? We are left only to speculate. Perhaps it had to do with enigmatical entity known only as the Phantom of the Opera, who is accredited with an earlier tragedy involving a new box attendant, her husband, and brother and a falling chandelier. It seems far more likely that Viscompt Raoul killed his own brother and ran away with the singer out of desperation when the Count tried to stop him from proposing to Mademoiselle Daae. _

_"It was no secret that they loved each other, Christine and that Boy." Said Madame Giry, dance instructor at the opera, and who had known the girl. "They were always together. Spending afternoon wandering the Opera House. Christine had taken to wandering like someone who was trapped and was desperate for a way out." Could the delicate flower of the stage, in the prime of her career, become too entangled in actions that were out of her control? Whether spectral or more intangible, it seems to be that this mystery will not be clearing up any time soon._

"Madame?" The voice of my maid interrupted my train of thought. I gave her a death glare. She blanched as she placed my meager breakfast on my desk. I leant back, placing my hands on my face.

"What is all of this?" Natalie whispered. I peeked at her through my fingers with a smile.

"Would you like to find out?" A fervent nod answered. "Look at your palms." I extended my own in further example, pointing at my finger tips.

"I see ridges!"

"Those ridges leave behind a print, and no two prints are the same. If I add a powder to it I can tell if you have been…" I fell silent, a sudden realization hitting me.

"Vanessa?" Natalie said nervously.

"…been at a crime scene." I gasped. Then I hurriedly grabbed my coat and hat.

"Johann, call a cab quickly!" I exclaimed out of the library at my butler.

"Yes, Mademoiselle," the German answered. I grazed over the newspapers once again before striding out of the house, leaving my maid with a confounded expression. The brisk ride to the opera passed by without my notice. I did not wait for the cab to stop before I leapt out, tossing my fare over my shoulder, and glided up the front steps into the opera's administration wing.

"Where are the Managers?" I demanded of a passing administrator.

"They are in their office and do not wish to be disturbed, he replied. I marched off in the direction of the offices. The administrator immediately followed me, squawking like an angry goose. I then passed the Repiteur.

"What's going on?" he asked in confusion. Once the administrator answer, he too tried to detain me, but I kept my ground and continued walking. I approached the office with a determined expression carved on my face. I stopped in front of the secretary's desk.

"May I help you?" he asked, not even bothering to look up.

"Yes, tell the Managers that Vanessa VanCartia needs to speak with them," I responded.

"They are busy at the moment, come back later." With a haughty laugh, I turned from the desk to the office. I barged into the manager's office with several other members of the opera staff in tow, including the secretary, the Repiteur, and the administrator. The men just mentioned stepped blatantly in between me and the Managers. I gave them all a poisonous glare as I pushed past them.

"What in God's name is going on here?" Moncharmin exclaimed at the crowd and commotion. When he saw me, his eyes flashed with worry.

"I want to know what happened to the body of Count Francis de Sanderville," I demanded. The Managers stood stupefied. Something was amiss. No one seemed to want me here, despite the fact that I was paid to be so. I arched an eyebrow as I approached the Managers. "Messieurs, have you been threatened?"

There was a pause, in which I caught the managers exchanging a look. The tension in the air was almost tangible. Firmin made as if he would say something.

"Well, out with it, man!" I finally snapped.

"You should have this," Firmin stated. I took a letter from his outstretched hand and read it silently. Warn me not to cross him? I laughed out loud.

"Would you please enlighten us as to what is so amusing? Moncharmin asked.

"I think I just found your murderer, sirs. This letter proves it. He is frightened of me. Frightened of the thought that I will catch him," I responded, folding the letter and slipping it into my interior coat pocket. "Even if I do not catch this Phantom on this particular charge, I shall have him in irons on one of the others. Now may I please see the body?"

Firmin offered to escort me to Saint Maria's Mortuary. The two of us hurried out of the building and into the manager's carriage, Firmin barking the name of the location. I sat quietly in the plush velvet upholstered cabin, staring calmly out the window as the carriage swayed down the cobbled streets.

"Pardon my asking, but why do you need to see Francis' body?" Firmin asked after a few moments silence

"I hope to find a trace of the person who killed him. There might be a clue," I answered.

A half hour later found us in the preparation room of Saint Maria's mortuary. The room was stark white and antiseptically cleansed. No matter how often I was in this room, I still shivered from the unpleasantness of the environment. It was a personal theory of mine that all morticians were slightly off kilter in the head. But good news prevails even in the gloomiest of places. The body had not been prepared yet. It was basically in the form it had been when it arrived. This meant I had a great stroke of luck and plenty of opportunity to find a clue. I gestured to the mortician to show me the body. The storage platform gave a responding clang as it rolled of its compartment. Another chill ran up my spine.

"Thank you," I said as the mortician handed me the cadaver's personal effects before they left. After combing through the bag of items, I came across a torn piece of fabric. It looked like it was from a lady's gown, or even from a costume from that night's production I then turned to the body as Firmin watched.

I examined the body meticulously. Nothing looked strange, besides the fact that it was pale white and, of course, dead. I bent down to look at the victim's face. The blue tint of death flushed the entire body, seen the most in the purple color of the lips and fingers. His spine was broken due to the plummet from the heights of the Opera Populair, and the back of his skull was fractured. I felt a kind of pity for the man.

Suddenly, the head dropped to the side and stared at me despite rigor mortis.

"JESUS CHRIST!" I shrieked in shock. I placed a hand on my racing heart and closed my eyes, ready to be sick.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" Firmin asked, obviously shaken by my scream.

"Yes, I am fine. Just startled, that's all," I answered with measured breath.

When I opened my eyes again, I noticed something that I had overlooked before and a smile creased my face. A small red spot was on the neck of Count Francis. I leaned forward again and further examined it. It was a woman's lip color. Indeed, our dearly departed Count was an adventurous fellow. I could not help but smirk. Check one off the investigative list. The victim _was _a man around town. So the Managers were right.

"Have you found something?" Firmin whispered, picking up on the reason for my smile and not wanting the morticians outside to hear.

"You were right." I pointed at the lip color. A look of understanding flew between us. Wiping my hands on a clean towel, we left the room. The mortician stood outside waiting for me to finish.

"I shall have to keep an eye out for my career, sir. You and your colleague are turning into quite the astute detectives. The manager beamed at the praise. I then fell silent, leaving the building in a contemplative mood. So the Count and his lady partner had been in an amiable encounter that night, when someone, namely the Phantom, jumped the Count and killed him after the lady had left. If that was the case, why did the Phantom leave the lady alive?

'_Well, there are two answers to that question. First, he loved her and secondly, he had not let her live and hid the body.' _I meditated to myself. _'Then why did he not hide the Count's body?'_ Another simple conclusion came to mind; he did not have time, the body had been found where he had left it at the moment he had finished hiding the other. It made sense, now to see if I was correct. I slipped inside the carriage, followed closely by Firmin.

Back in the Manager's office, I began to try and connect the pieces I had been given.

"Monsieur Firmin, did any of the female opera tenants go missing mysteriously on the night of the murder?" I asked, sitting casually in a winged back chair, sipping coffee.

"Not that I know of," he replied.

"Damn. Well, that narrows things down for me," I muttered. Things kept on getting more confusing the deeper I delved. So the Phantom loved her or was her friend and helped her get rid of the Count. Sound plausible? Yes! Or maybe I was completely and utterly off and the Phantom was really nothing more than a myth to frighten ballerinas.

"Mademoiselle, please listen to the note. He is always serious when he writes. He will kill you if you get on his bad side," Firmin suddenly pleaded.

"Monsieur, I end up on everyone's bad side, it's inevitable. So you should refrain from worrying. My death will not tarnish your opera, for I will not be here when it happens," I teased. Firmin bit his lip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**The circumstances in which I met the Phantom**

_Vanessa_

A week passed as I continued to scour the theater for clues. Unfortunately, my search was not yielding any new evidence, which began to make me feel agitated. On a Sunday afternoon, I realized that I had looked under every stone, except for one: the beam from which the Count had fallen to his demise. When I asked the managers about that particular cat walk, they assured me that no one ever went up that high any more. This meant that evidence could still be there, untampered.

With a sigh, I began my reluctant climb up the stairs to the crossbeams. I swear the climb stretched to an unbearable length just to spite me. When I finally reached my destination, my immediate reaction was to brace myself against the wall. Why oh why did the count have to die up here instead of on the ground like a _normal_ person? As I stood there, my mind was racing with reasons why he had been up here, and it hit me that this was probably where he and his lover met. It made logical sense to me. I ever so slowly crept out onto the cat walk, focusing on the board beneath my feet to help me keep my composure. As I inched my way out there, something caught my eye. I knelt and saw a strand of red hair. Red hair? The Count was a blonde. So the woman he was wooing was a red head who favored red lipstick. I began to think that the lady had done more sinister things that sleep with a rich patron. I rose to my feet ever so cautiously and heard laughter. Someone was watching me and enjoying my evident discomfort with heights. I jerked my head up, scanning the rigging, and caught a faint glimpse of an apparition slipping into the shadows. Grasping my revolver I watched the shadow. It was a person alright. It had to be. It was an accepted theory that sometimes a criminal will return to the scene of the crime.

"Halt!" I shouted, removing the gun from its holster. Forgetting my fear in the spur of the moment, I raced across the catwalk and pursued the shadow. It was a man in a long black cloak that was billowing behind him as he ran. The rigging of the stage sang as I raced past. I stopped for a moment. The man had somehow vanished among the ropes. I hastily scanned the surrounding ropes and catwalks, searching for whom I did not know. I glanced down and there he was, practically flying down a ladder to the bottom floor. I looked frantically around for a way down, and the ladder was too far for me to use it. An idea came to mind. I climbed over the railing and launched myself onto a rope. I slid down the length and hit the floor hard. I jumped up to see him dropping down a trap door, vanishing into the darkness. I dropped in after him, and landed in a pitch black cellar. A single lamp hung nearby and I lunged for it. The Middle Eastern man's warning rang sharply in my mind as I hurriedly traveled down the service stairs. It wasn't long until I met a labyrinth of sewer like lakes. The lakes were not all that deep as I sloshed my way through thigh high water. The weight of the silence down in the depths was oppressive. Little rivulets of moisture trickled down the brick walls. I couldn't stop shivering from the cold water that soaked my coat and clothes. I heard a rustling sound around a corner and turned to follow it, my breath catching in my throat. The light from the lamp filled a cobwebbed room as I turned the corner.

"Hello," I called out into the dark. Silence. My words had fallen with a leaden weight despite the cavernous qualities of the cellars. The rustling repeated itself closer to the waterline, catching me off guard, and I glanced down to see a pair of rats scavenging. With relief, I released my breath in a long low whistle. I listened to the rats' squeaks while I calmed my racing heart. The atmosphere seemed to become less oppressive as unexpected relief washed over me. Then a disconcerting sound filled the chamber. It started with a low rumble that shook my heart in its cage, and grew to a crashing crescendo. I looked up to find a portion of the curved stone roof collapsing. Before I could jump out of the way one of the bricks struck me hard on the temple. I felt a pair of arms wrap around me as dizziness made consciousness slip away to black.

The next thing I saw was a face, a face with fiery gold eyes that stared out at the world from behind a white mask. The man wearing it was dabbing my temple expertly, and none too gently, with a damp handkerchief. My eyes drifted to see that he was well dressed in evening garb. My surroundings consisted of a small, basin less fountain and a lamp that cast deep shadows on the walls.

"You took quite the knock to the head, and you cut your lip." The man stated matter-of-factly. I was stricken by how surprisingly beautiful his voice was. I had not expected the man to speak so elegantly with a voice of honey that coated his distrust and bitterness. It struck me that this man was the one I had been chasing, the reason I was located in the bowels of the theater far from any human intervention. I stared at his mask wondering who was behind it.

"It is rude to stare." The man stated coldly, rising to his feet. I reached for my revolver, but found, to my chagrin, that it was inappropriately not there.

"Looking for this?" The Man asked, pointing the revolver with deadly accuracy at me. Sitting up proudly, I formulated a plan to bluff my way out of this threat. I had to find his weakness. I decided to get him talking.

"Judging by the mask, you are the Phantom."

"What of it?" His voice was calm, bored even. Or maybe it was sadness. I decided to file that away for later.

"I wish to know the name of my soon to be murderer. If you want to kill me, I suggest that you do so quickly. I am not going to wait here forever, and I will not stop hunting you until you are behind bars." I threatened, half lying. I was more than happy to sit there waiting for however long I needed to gain the upper hand. I could see that he knew this.

"Relax, Detective. I'm not going to kill you. I have not killed anyone in years for chasing me down into _my_ domain…"He rotated my revolver around his finger.

"_Your_ domain," I interrupted with dumb founded shock. A smirk played across his lips.

"Yes, mine. I control everything in this opera, from the singers down to the very last sub cellar." He gloated. Slowly, with feline grace, he knelt before me, his face mere inches away from mine. "Now listen well, because I detest repeating myself. You would do well to avoid these cellars, for while I have not killed in nine years, I will make an exception for you."

The menace in his voice sent chills up my spine as he glared at me with eyes that reflected the lamp light in a haunting fashion. He was indeed a bona-fied killer. He then smiled wickedly as a cloth soaked in chloroform enveloped my nose and mouth. I fought viciously, trying to free myself from the chemicals grasp, but he was far too strong. Try as I did things began to get fuzzy and finally my mind succumbed.

* * * *

_The Phantom_

_(As written by Erik)_

I lifted the sandy haired nuisance in my arms, laughing, and conveyed the light creature to my home. I hope I had sufficiently frightened the woman. It would be a small reward for preparing an herbal remedy to help the damned fool. Simply because I disliked her did not mean I didn't have to try to keep on the inquisitive little thing's good side. It was the, quote, right thing to do, end quote, but since when have I ever cared about right and wrong? I had only freedom from her pestering to gain by being slightly civil.

I quickly entered my home and laid the unconscious woman on a bed, and I sat at my organ writing a note to the detective, who lay unconscious in her room. No don't think of her. Don't think of Christine Daae, my beautiful music protégé. The memories were still too painful. I finished the note with a flourish and made the wax seal. I chuckled at the red skull. Quite ingenious, my little allusion to Poe. I doubt anyone understood the humor. I slid the note into my coat pocket. I then grabbed a candle.

Hurriedly, I traveled to my laboratory, if a laboratory you could call it. It was simply a room where I tinkered with contraptions meant for illusions, and formulated new medicinal concoctions. It was a distraction when music was not adequate enough. A thought entered my mind concerning the unconscious woman in the next room. I quickly thrust the thought to the back of my memory and quickly subdued the rage that usually came as kin to the embarrassment that I always felt when I caught myself thinking like a lecher. I finished the infusion, and also concealed it in my pocket.

When I finished my civic duty, I returned to the unconscious Detective. I stood there jealously admiring the serenity in which she slept, tracing her brow with the back of a finger at the roots of her blonde hair. Why is it that the most undeserving people had the bliss of dreamless sleep? I still woke in a sweat from nightmares of Tehran. Silently, I lifted the woman in my arms and proceeded to return her to the heights of which she was so frightened. When I reached the catwalk I was careful to make it look as if she had fainted. Gently placing the woman down, I slipped the note and the vial into her duster pocket, after returning her gun to her, and secretly hoped that I would never see her again.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

"OH MY GOD Is she okay?" a voice rang in my ears. My eyes sprang open and I discerned a ballerina leaning over me, an expression of horror and curiosity upon her features.

"Oh good she's waking up. It looks like she fainted and injured her head." Another voice said. It was Monsieur Firmin and he helped me sit up. "Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost. What happened?"

"I was investigating and ...," I began hesitantly, glancing around me. I was half a flight down some stairs from the beam. It indeed looked like I had swooned and collapsed. I guess my fear of being up there again bled through my facade because Firmin suddenly asked "Are you afraid of heights?"

"Yes, terrified." I responded, even more wary of what shade or spirit hid in the shadows of the Opera Garnier. I chose not to mention my chase with the Phantom. I wasn't even sure now that there had been a chase. And besides, who would believe me? Firmin left on some errand or another, but the ballerina stayed. I wanted her to leave. I found myself in desperate need of thinking.

"You saw him didn't you?" The blonde said cordially, plopping her pink tutued bottom next to mine and grasping my hands.

"Him," I asked stupidly. She raised a pale hand and hid half of her face... _Like a mask_. I remembered the warning so clearly I think I went paler than I already was due to the chloroform. So it hadn't been a bad, faint induced dream.

"Who was he? And who are you?" I asked, my thoughts seething at the prospect of getting more information.

"I am Meg Giry, daughter to the personal friend of the Phantom, and Ballet mistress of the Paris Opera. But _**He**_ is a ghost. No one really knows much about him, except my Mother and the Persian. She said that he is a genius, a jack of all trades. He is an architect, designer, doctor, and a composer. Mostly a composer. He used to ask for twenty thousand francs a month and a private box for his exclusive use at performances, but for a few years now he has been pretty silent. That is, until you arrived." She answered.

"How do you know so much about him?"

"My mother."

"Oh. Right."

The girl laughed at my last statement.

"What? Do you think I had met him? Detective I have only ever seen him from a distance once, and that was during Don Juan all those years ago. You have me beaten in that subject." She replied. I laughed too. I couldn't help it. I believed her. "Detective, for your own sake I ask you to leave this case. It may prove fatal to you and others of the opera."

"What is it about these Opera folk worrying about me? I will not allow myself to taint the reputation of my current employer. Please Meg, do not worry about me. I hate it." I sighed.

I rose to my feet and left the palatial building in the snow. The white powder crunched softly as I walked home, feeling the brisk air clearing my head from the chloroform fog it was in. People were out shopping for the holidays and I watched as children made snow angels in what little there was. A small twang of regret hit me as I thought about the Christmas approaching and how I had no one but servants to celebrate it with. Not that I mind Johann or Natalie, but it would have been nice to have someone I had no authority over, whom I cared about, be with me while the two sang carols and what not. When I reached home I stuck my hand in my pocket for my key, and felt a small vial and a note edged in black and written in red ink.

_Detective,_

_This vial is filled with a concoction formed to help with your Concussion. Take a drop of it and distil it in a glass of water, then sleep for two hours at a time and take it again. Remember my warning._

_- O.G_

'Do I trust him?' I thought. I was in a mental turmoil. He wanted to be left alone, yet he risked his life to rescue me and went out of his way to make this... medication for me. There had to be an underlying reason. Or... Could it be... that The Phantom of the Opera simply did it out of the goodness of his heart? No, not possible, Once a criminal, always a criminal. Natalie didn't really give me a choice. She forced the cordial of herbs down my throat and sent me to bed like a childthat has been disobedient.

That night I had a dream of a white mask and a gun being fired at me. It was fairly disturbing and I woke sitting bolt upright, a cold sweat on my forehead and Natalie watching over me in a sisterly sort of way.

Natalie asked me something, resting a cool palm to my forehead. I was too distracted to listen to her questions. He had me at point blank range; he could have freed himself from my searching for him. Yet he chose to let me go. Who was this man?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four- A Masquerade Nightmare**

**Vanessa**

Two weeks passed and I still hadn't found the culprit. I began to feel like a Phantom myself; with all of the lurking and searching I had to do. I never crossed The Phantom of the Opera off my list of suspects and I had not seen hair or hide of him since out first introduction. The police had come and gone. I finally had to walk into the office of the managers.

"Messieurs, I have come to cancel half of my contract. I no longer require you to pay me, but I wish to continue to attempt to solve this Mystery." I stated, sitting at the desk of Monsieur Moncharmin, Monsieur Firmin sitting on a corner of the desk next to his partner. No case had defeated me, and I was determined that no case ever would.

"Mademoiselle VanCartia, we are grateful to you for all that you have done for the opera so far and I propose a suggestion. Why don't we with hold Payment until it is solved, rather than cancel out right." Moncharmin replied diplomatically "And Firmin and I personally invite you to the Opera's annual Masquerade."

"If it is what you two want, I thank you."

I rose to my feet, gave a gracious nod and exited the office. As I traveled down the Grand Staircase, I ran into Meg.

"Vanessa! I was looking for you." The Ballerina exclaimed joyously. "I want you to join me and some friends of mine for some coffee. Come on follow me." I never got the chance to accept or decline. Meg grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the Ballet dorms.

Meg was an overwhelming presence sometimes, with her endless enthusiasm and optimistic views to life. She wasn't as silly and frivolous as the other ballerinas were, as I soon came to find out.

"Meg, you're late!" a brunette sneered.

"Sorry just had to find the newest member of our little family." Meg smiled her hand behind her head in a childish pose. "Be nice, this is Vanessa."

"How do you do," I muttered, god I hated frivolous dancers.

"Oh... so _you're_ the one that's been irritating the Phantom." A black haired girl strolled up to me.

"I irritate everyone who's guilty of a crime, comes with the territory. Would you mind stepping back?" I stated coldly. The girl did as I asked and I sat down authoritatively in a ladder-back chair. Meg burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" I asked arching an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, it's just you reminded me of my mother. She acted just like you." Meg said, fighting her mirth. Sympathy warmed my heart towards this young woman who had taken responsibility for all of the dancers.

"Oh Meg you aren't thinking straight. Poor dear, here, drink this." The brunette sympathetically handed Meg a shot of Whisky. To my amazement Meg downed the strong liquor in one gulp without any expression of disgust. So much for the coffee!

"So, may I inquire as to what happened to Madame?" I tentatively touched the subject.

"She died a year ago. She was an excellent dancer." Meg stated matter-of-factly.

"I give you my deepest condolences." I was shocked. This woman had secretly harbored a villain for how many years, I do not know, and her Daughter was the only one to pry the secret out of her. I had to hand some credit to her name, the dearly departed Ballet instructor sounded like she had some independence in her. I gazed at her Daughter, the light hearted blonde sitting across from me laughing at something her friends had said. How was it that these two women had kept this dark secret, and how is it that the younger Giry could speak so casually of her mother's death?

"So Vanessa, what's your poison?" The black haired girl asked.

"I have a job to do." I stated, not in the mood for drinking. I rose to my feet, but the brunette pushed me back into my seat.

"The Phantom's not going anywhere anytime soon; you can spare one evening to have a life." Meg stated over the brunette's shoulder. A look of injured pride crossed my face. "What? Did you think we didn't notice you searching like a fiend for clues?" After rolling my eyes at them I caved to their wishes.

"Do you have a Merlot?" I asked.

"Do we... Ha ha! Meg I love this girl. Yes dearie, we have Merlot. And it's a damn good year too!" The Black haired girl chuckled.

"By right, I'd be calling you all 'Dearies'. I'm at least ten years older than you." I growled. Such adolescent disrespect I could not tolerate.

"You're in our home Nessa, we have the superiority rights." The woman stated handing me the glass of wine she had poured and laughing at her own wit. Nessa? I stared stupidly in reaction to the pet name. I took the glass and thanked her as graciously as I dared.

"So tell us about yourself Nessa." The brunette suggested, adopting my new name. That was so annoying. Why did these Dancing folk have to give each other pet names and such?

"Not much to tell. Just a simple Detective." I answered.

"Not to mention, one who's successful and rich." Another blonde, who I hadn't noticed, stated.

"Why are you here? Why do you care so much about this incident? Others have happened before." The Brunette asked quizzically.

"I'm here to make sure every criminal gets what they deserve. A short drop and a sudden stop." I gave a small self satisfied smirk as I stared at the group over my glass. I even winked at Meg, who countered with another.

"Oh aren't you the little hand of god." The trying woman sneered.

"Am I to assume that you and I are ill disposed to each other?" I asked. That silenced the interest in my life and morals. The conversation went to varying subjects. Finally a subject that I hadn't expected came up. The Corps du ballet, a group of fifty ballet dancers, male and female, began to discuss the Phantom. I, being the only sober one, listened earnestly.

"I heard that he likes to kidnap innocent dancers and use them in occult sacrifices." One girl stated.

"What utter nonsense. He's just a devil's pawn." The black haired woman scolded.

"Well look at Christine! No one's seen or heard from her since her abduction." The girl squeaked.

"Oh Annette, you and your religious superstitions." A man laughed, to great applause. I couldn't resist chuckling along, the sense of family overwhelming me.

"He's just a person like you and me." Meg spoke up. "He knows a lot more than we ever would. And it's best if we stop talking about him, it will upset him."

"Oh Meg you're no fun!" Annette mocked.

"Well you wouldn't want to be spoken about if you had been rejected by everyone!" Meg snapped. "You would want to be left alone and disappear. Now you all best silence yourselves before he starts causing problems in retaliation!" And that was the end of the conversation. As the drinking died down, I went and sat down next to Meg.

I asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Meg responded.

"Yes and no. You looked like you were looking for an excuse to protect the Opera, but I'm a detective and I see things more deeply than others." I responded in turn.

"I only wish he could live a normal life, that doesn't mean I love him. I saw where he lived." Meg whispered. "But that's a secret I'll take to the grave."

"I understand. Tell me about the incident of Christine Daae's abduction."

"It was about ten years ago. Christine had been growing distant, no longer talking to anyone except her fiancée, for a few weeks. Everything came to a head when The Phantom himself went onstage and kidnapped Christine right before the audience's very eyes." I suddenly remembered the incident myself. I had been there. I was sitting in the third tier of boxes when there was an obvious change in actors on stage. The plump Piangi was replaced by a thin mystery man, who came out from behind the curtains masking the difference under a long black Spanish cape. As far away as I was, I could see the desire he had for the young Christine was making him drop his guard foolishly. He was amazing on stage, passionate and attentive, seeming to offer Christine everything in exchange for nothing. The sudden connection sent a jolt through me.

"I haven't heard from her or seen her since." Meg's voice brought me back to reality.

At about three in the morning I slipped out of the Opera's Dormitories and began my quiet walk home. I had another piece to the Phantom's puzzle. But I was stopped by a strange sight. Signora Carlotta was shutting the door to her Dressing room, and hurriedly leaving the Opera. In her hurry she left the door unlocked. A thought occurred to me. It was so obvious I was amazed that I hadn't come up with it before. I silently approached the door and glanced to see if anyone was watching me. You could never be too careful around these sneaky underworld folk. I opened the door and slid inside as inconspicuously as possible. I turned a gas lamp on and immediately wished that I hadn't.

The walls were every shade of pink you could come up with and the perfume of flowers nearly choked me. God, could this woman be any more ridiculous? I coughed and stepped toward a vanity covered with every kind of cosmetic you could imagine. I slid a drawer open and gazed inside. Eye makeup. The next was just as useless. But the final answered my suspicion. Hidden in the back of the drawer was a tube of lip color and it was the same color as the red on the Count's neck. I burst into a smile. In a fever, I dug through all of the drawers. In the last one I found a charred letter. Most of it was still intact, amazingly.

_My dearest...,_

_I shall gladly give you anything that you ask for. You need never fear a rejection. A world tour, privilege, title. All of it is yours. All you ever need to do is ask, my little song bird. I love you, and never wish to be parted from you. To our everlasting happiness._

_Yours forever,_

_Francis_

Even though the name of the recipient was burnt off, it wasn't hard to tell to whom it was directed. I had finally found my culprit. And tomorrow was the Opera Garnier's Annual Masquerade Ball. I stuffed the letter and lipstick in my pocket, knowing that I was breaking the law by not getting a search warrant first, but the ends justify the means in my book. I then left the Opera House and headed home. I barged inside my home, scaring Natalie awake from her post at the door.

"Natalie, we have a ball to prepare for." After a few hours rest, Natalie and I headed into the shopping district to pick out a costume for the party. With Natalie's eye for fashion and my conservative taste, I managed to find an attractive blue gown made of satin. After racing home and styling my hair, choosing accessories, and adding finishing touches, I finally felt disguised behind the black mask. I stepped into the carriage, and with a jolt, I was off to the Masque.

The glamour and sparkle of the Opera's Lobby was heightened in the jubilant atmosphere. All of the rich and famous were gathered in one room. High society never interested me, unless of course one of them needed my skills to solve some 'great mystery' for them. But on only one night of the year could Princes and Paupers gather together without class strife. I stood amongst the crowd, feeling entirely out of place, my dress being far from my norm, but Natalie had insisted.

"Ah Vanessa, how good of you to come." Moncharmin exclaimed as he threw an arm drunkenly around my neck. I blanched. Was I that recognizable? How would I be able to catch Carlotta if she could see me from a mile away?

"Yes. Of course I came." I replied shaking the manager's arm off of me.

"Well, have a jolly time." Firmin hiccupped.

"I will try." I answered.

I glided across the floor, weaving between the revelers. I kept my eyes sharp for any sign of La Carlotta. The rich and the bourgeois all floated in their taffeta and silk. It was dizzying. Finally, I managed to make it to the base of the Grand Staircase. I watched the dancers with mild interest, they all seemed so happy. I felt the faintest pull of longing in my heart. I wanted to be one of them. I realized that I had always spent my life on the problems of others, rarely, if ever, focusing on my own life. As I was wandering in my thoughts, I suddenly became aware of a white rose tied with a white ribbon floating before me, supported by a black gloved hand.

"May I have this dance?" A familiar, gorgeous voice asked. I turned to see my former suspect staring at me. He was wearing a Persian ensemble of black with a red sash and a red cape pinned attractively on one shoulder, trailing to the floor behind him. I would have mistaken him for a Persian had I not recognized his gold eyes from behind a Middle Eastern mask. They seemed to be piercing me in a cold appraisal. I was unexpectedly very glad that I was wearing a mask, because I started to flush under his intense gaze.

"No, thank you." I answered immediately. "I have important matters to deal with."

"I know." The Phantom responded wryly. "I also know that Carlotta won't leave the party until she's the last person left, unless she finds someone to lust after. And that is very rare. Her ego is too inflated to let her leave her public. So in conclusion, you have a few minutes to spare at least." I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. He was the last man on earth I wanted to see. I ought to say no, my conscious screamed, yet my gut said go ahead and do something spontaneous, dance with the ex con-man and murderer.

I caved in to instinct.

"You knew Carlotta had killed the Count, yet you said nothing. Why didn't you tell me? All of this could have ended much sooner." I asked feeling irritated.

"Would you have believed me?"

That silenced me. Accepting the rose from him, I nodded as nonchalantly as possible, affecting an air of boredom. I picked up the faintest hint of a rather charming smile as I let him lead me onto the dance floor. The sweeping notes of a waltz began. The Phantom placed his hand at the small of my back and I placed mine on his broad shoulder as we entwined our free hands together. Then with a sweep, we were twirling around the room.

"You look well. I take it that you've been listening to my advice?" He asked in muted tones.

"Yes," was all I could say.

"Good."

"So _Monsieur le fantome_, may I enquire as to what you are doing here among those of the upper world?" I asked.

"I don't spend all of my time alone down in the cellars. I too enjoy a good masquerade." He replied.

"And the rose?" I continued.

"Think of it as a flag of truce," His voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush. "I'm on your side. I want to clear my name from this particular murder. But cross me and you will not find me as forgiving as last time we met."

"What makes you think I need a criminal on my side?" I said icily.

"Because, _I'm_ the only way you're going to catch her!" He hissed. I laughed whole heartedly in his face. Him, the only way to catch Carlotta, My god he was arrogant. I caught a flash of anger behind his eyes. I then spied Carlotta, laughing with some brainless twit of a noble born. I extricated myself from the Phantom's arms.

"Excuse me; I have a job to do." I said matter-of-factly. Walking around him, I caught Carlotta as she walked away. With a deft motion, I cut her off with my arm in her path. I cornered her against the wall, our skirts swirling in our hurry.

"My dear Carlotta," I greeted sarcastically as I removed my black mask. "Might I have a word with you? Do you remember this?" I pulled the tube of lip color and the letter out of my bodice and held them up. "The same color was found on the neck of the Count. Would you mind explaining to me why it was in your dressing room, and what a charming letter like this was doing in your dressing room?"

Carlotta's breath became ragged and I noticed her eyes widen in fear. Suddenly she shoved me so forcefully I fell to the ground. A collective gasp slithered through the Lobby as the other guests became spectators in this drama. I instantly replaced the lip color and letter to where I had kept them and pulled my revolver from my garter. The blue satin of the dress I wore rustled as I raced up the Grand Staircase after Carlotta. I pursued her through the Auditorium and to the backstage. I regretfully noticed that she was climbing to the roof of the opera. Forgetting my fear for the sake of catching a criminal, I flew up the stairs. Carlotta slammed open the top most door and I followed.

"Don't move or I WILL fire," I shouted over the wind. "It's over Carlotta! I know everything! You are responsible for the Murder of Count Francis De Sandersville. But one thing eludes me. Why?" It was cold on the roof. Frigid.

Carlotta stood there angrily glaring at me.

"Ou want to know why I keeled heem?" She snarled. "Ee promised to get me a world traveling production. Ee LIED to me." I stepped forward shaking my head. "Stay where Ou are Detective."

Suddenly the impossible woman lunged at me, knocking my gun from my hands as we tumbled to the stone roof. I urgently tossed the woman off of me and strained my entire being to grasp the revolver, which was barely out of reach.

Carlotta pinned me to the roof and took the revolver in her hand, pointing it at me. In self defense I toppled the woman over me and jumped to my feet. Carlotta rose to her own feet and backed me to the edge of the precipice.

"Ou ave been much too troublesome, detective," Carlotta stated holding my gun. "Adios."

Time seemed to slowdown as I watched my gun fire on me. Searing pain coursed through my left shoulder and the force of the shot blew me off the roof.

My heart raced as my body plummeted to the street below. The adrenaline made my breath ragged. Was this the way I was meant to die? I closed my eyes and began to pray for forgiveness of any sin I may have committed. I braced my body for the unbearable pain of every broken bone I would sustain. It never came. I gasped at the sensation of a hand grabbing my left arm. I was jolted to a stop by my injured arm.

I screamed in pain.

"Detective, give me your hand!" I opened my eyes and stared directly into those of the Phantom. At his petition I reached my free arm for or his. I was amazed at how effortlessly he pulled me onto the Balcony he was on. We toppled to the floor and I cried out in pain.

"Hush!" My rescuer whispered. Rescuer, how odd that that is the only way for an independent woman to describe him in that moment. My mentality toward this enigmatical man was immediately shifted. I smiled a weak smile that looked like my last at him. He had saved my life despite our differences, and that alone was baffling. He picked me up and the last thing I saw was Carlotta staring at me and The Phantom's white mask.

* * * *

_The Phantom_

_(As written by Erik)_

I stood among the crowd of fops and merchants, watching the Detective as fury made my hands shake. How dare she! I couldn't believe that such a strange person had caught my eye on her first day in the opera. I watched as the detective confronted the 'diva' Carlotta. I laughed as the detective cornered the red head and showed her the major piece of evidence. Crafty woman, I thought admiringly. I liked her method. She was using Carlotta's pride and lust for fame against the flashy singer. She might just arrest the banshee after all. Suddenly I could see everything going to hell as Carlotta attempted to flee. Following a safe distance behind, I tracked the progress of the two. They were heading for the roof. Knowing the one fact about the Detective that I had been privy to witness, I knew that this direction would cause some complications. Chasing the sound of their feet, I heard a gunshot and ran to the nearest outdoor area I could find. I watched as the blue garbed body of the Detective plummeted from the roof top. I grabbed her arm deftly and urged her to give me her other. Pulling her up, I was knocked off balance and we fell. I realized that I had landed on top of her. I stared at her and silenced her when she cried out from the pain in her arm.

Her smile, it was so fearless. She wasn't afraid of Death, of life, or of me. A slight hidden trace of regret shone through and I understood it immediately. All of that was made crystal clear to me in that moment of resigned beauty. Her hazel eyes glazed over before they fluttered shut. Why am I thinking this way? Why has this stalwart woman brought out the depths of compassion in me? As I held the creature, I realized that she had lost a large quantity of blood. Her complexion grew paler as I hastened headlong to the house by the lake.

I gently deposited this curious woman on a couch. I checked for a pulse and for any sign of breath, the likeness to death was so compelling. When I was satisfied that she was still among the living I found some gauze and cut away the sleeve of the detective's gown. The bullet had imbedded itself cleanly in her shoulder and I had no difficulty removing it. As I bandaged her arm, I paused. She seemed so serene, laying there among the Russian pillows on the couch. Her pale skin was almost glowing softly in the light from the fire. I could tell that she would need a transfusion quickly to save her life. Without a thought, I brought out a tourniquet, cinching it around her arm. I quickly constructed a makeshift transfusion machine and inserted a needle into her arm. I then did the same to my own arm. Beginning to pump a pneumatic device, I drained a pint of blood into her body from myself. That was all the blood I knew anyone could spare. Immediately I saw a result, by the return of her color. Removing the needles from the two of us, I felt entranced as I watched the color spread from her cheeks to her thin nose and finally to her lips. I found myself wondering what they would have felt like if I ever kissed them, not in the intimidating manner I had before. That, in my opinion, wasn't really a kiss. I attentively lent forward and lightly brushed my lips against her's. They were soft and slightly giving, a delicate sensation that was unbelievable. I suddenly pulled away. What was I doing? I hastily finished the bandaging and stepped away. I then decided to put her in Christine's room. Laying her gently on the comforter, I took a few more seconds to just watch her sleeping form. I glanced away. Catching my reflection in a mirror, I noticed a large patch of the crimson liquid on my shirt from the Detective's wound and, with a sigh of aggravation, proceeded to my room to change. I unbuttoned the shirt, and felt a headache coming on due to the lack of blood. I slipped on a simple, oversized, colonial shirt. All that was left to do was to wait. Which is easier said than done. I kept cursing her, under my breath, for all of the trouble she caused me. But then why did I just stop her from falling or bleeding to death?

* * * *

_Vanessa_

I don't know how long I was incapacitated. Minutes, hours, Days? When I returned to consciousness, I was distinctly aware that I was in a new environment. It was whimsical, and dark. I was in a room made of four stone cave like walls. There was furniture of an out of date style that I couldn't recognize. I slowly, gingerly rose to my hands on a four poster bed. Cold air skimmed my bare arm and I noticed that it had been expertly bandaged on the shoulder and elbow. I slipped out of the bed, still in my torn evening dress, and left the room.

I stepped into the next room in a daze, due to the throbbing in my head. It was a small, serviceable living room that housed a piano, a couch, a small chaise lounge, candelabras, and various sketches and drawings. It was the home Meg had informed me of and I found myself in awe of the gothic beauty. I slowly approached the mantle of the fireplace and stared at a charcoal portrait. The Dark haired beauty was oddly familiar and it only took me a moment to figure out why.

"Christine...," I whispered in awe. She looked like an angel. "No wonder you fell in love with her."

"That has been the second time I've prevented your demise and doctored you, Detective. Is that your form of investigating or are you just generally clumsy? I hope you now see that you do need my help in your attempt to arrest Carlotta." A voice rang in the shadows. I immediately blushed. Two golden pinpricks of light stared at me before the owner of the voice stepped into the light of a glowing candle.

Garbed in an oversized shirt, His every fluid movement was filled with elegance. His presence was oppressive with menace. So much that it was crushing, and I found myself wilting against a wall. I knew he was pissed, but I managed to gain enough courage to respond.

"I ... I... I am very grateful, sir." I stuttered my thanks. He laughed a melodious laugh that caused my heart to race in excitement. It seemed to take control of my senses, and that unnerved me.

"Do I frighten you?" He chuckled, clearly mocking me.

"No you don't." I lied, shaking. "I'm just cold." He came closer to me, and my breath began to tremble. What was he going to do? I placed a hand to my heart, fear and thrill almost choking me. With relief, I felt the menace melt away like wax. He brushed a hair lightly from my face and disinterestedly handed a black cloak to me.

"Would you like some tea to warm you?" The Phantom of the Opera asked me distractedly. I remained silent from my shock at the change in the atmosphere, which caused the masked man to laugh. "I won't poison you, which you can trust. It's dishonorable." I managed to mutely nod my head in acquiescence.

I watched dumbfounded as He left through a passage that obviously led to a kitchen. I listened attentively as He made the tea, wrapping the cloak around me. Within minutes He returned and handed to me a cup made of fine china filled with the amber liquid.

"Thank you." I stuttered. I took a sip of the tea and felt life revive my numbed brain.

"Detective, you've been at the Opera for over a month and a half, yet your name has eluded me." He stated, sitting carelessly across from me at the piano.

"I'll tell you my name if you give me yours."

There was a pause.

"Erik."

"Well Erik, is there a last name I may address you by?" I asked feeling a little confidence building, sipping the warm tea.

"No, just Erik," He responded icily. He gave me a look that said 'do not delve into my past' so clearly he could have yelled it.

"My good man, I don't need to delve into your past." I responded. "I know enough all ready. You are a ventriloquist are you not? That is quite a talent and you use it quite effectively, though for your own means of course. In eighteen eighty you met a girl named Christine Daae. A Girl with a miraculous singing ability, I would know, I was present at the good bye gala for the previous managers of the Opera, at which Mademoiselle Daae fainted, and then disappeared for a time. No doubt you had a hand in that. You caused some 'accidents' to occur in Mlle. Daae's best interest, you embarrassed Signora Carlotta and caused the chandelier to fall, and you killed two workers of the Opera. Now, _I_ am Vanessa VanCartia."

"I will not deny that I had been involved with that famous croak, but the Chandelier fell of its own accord. I truly had no influence over that." Erik interrupted, civilly irritated. "Why are you telling me about myself?"

"I have sufficient cause to have you arrested, and while at the moment you are not my prime target, Monsieur, I will see you get the justice you deserve. I have reason to believe that you killed Christine Daae, her fiancée, the Vicompt De Chagney, and his brother Phillip." I stated, trying to remain calm.

"Phillip, yes: Buquet even: But the other two, I never touched a hair on their foolish little heads." He snapped, regaining composure he continued. "Mlle VanCartia, I must ask that you refrain from mentioning Mlle. Daae again." Erik said solemnly.

"I understand. I would feel the same way." I responded. "To love a woman who had none of the same feelings for you, but rather, loved another. It's no wonder you killed them out of jealousy." Suddenly I was pinned to the wall. I glanced at Erik's eyes and fear, petrifying fear, engulfed me. The self loathing, hatred, and lust burned in him. It was incandescent.

"Don't ever presume that you understand. You know nothing of what it feels like to be rejected by the only person you ever loved. You will never know that feeling because of who you are." Erik whispered fearfully calm. I unexpectedly understood that his whole life had been nothing but pain and misery.

"Don't you dare pity me!" Erik murmured, easily reading my expression. His point was painfully clear. He meant to kill me should I slip up again. God knew how many people he had killed in the past, what did one more matter?

"Is pity the same as Compassion?" I whispered hoarsely, praying for a way to talk my way out of the situation. I saw that my point was made just as clearly. He released me. Swooping to the piano, he lost himself in his music. I collapsed to the floor gasping for air. "But I wonder sometimes if you aren't some kind of monster."

Erik wasn't lost enough in his melody it seemed, because he dropped down in front of me.

"Monster am I not. I'm the same as everyone else." He hissed, then he grabbed both of my hands, causing a gasp of shock to escape me, and pressed one to his heart and the other to mine. "Do you feel that? That is a heartbeat. It beats the same as yours, the same as every other human being." His voice cracked from the raw emotion he was fighting to control. I felt his heart beating as fast as mine, almost fluttering. He was frightened. Afraid that I'd see something he didn't want me to see. And that something was hidden behind the mask and deep in his soul. Knowing that, I grew calm. I watched as Erik crumpled and I awkwardly rested a hand on his shoulders. I realized that I was beginning to feel an emotion myself that I hadn't felt before, and quickly quashed it.

"Erik, you are the most perplexing man I have ever met." I murmured soothingly. I took Erik's face in my hands and looked him directly in the eyes. "You are a murderer and a criminal, yet I am incapable of feeling scorn for you. Perhaps it's out of my gratitude for you saving my life."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five**

**The plot**

Erik seemed to be shocked that I was touching him without fear, even after witnessing his terrible temper. Suddenly, a bell rang through the room. With a glance at me, Erik straightened himself up and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" I asked stupidly.

"Obviously, I've guests. I have the right to go and see what they want, don't I?" Erik snapped.

"Then I'm coming with you." I stated, making it perfectly clear that he wouldn't stop me.

"As you wish." he responded, exiting through another door.

We crossed an underground lake that slept deep inside the bowels of the Paris Opera. The mysterious labyrinthine kingdom of a dark lord. There was absolutely no light, save for the light that was produced from a lamp and a strange kind of phosphorescent blue fog. Erik stood behind me punting us in a small, shallow boat as chareon, the boater of the underworld would have. We didn't say a word to each other, Preferring silence at the moment to unnecessary chatter. As we neared the shore of the opposite bank I made out the shape of two people, their faces lit by the light of their own lamp. One of them I immediately recognized as Meg in her Masquerade angel costume. So I hadn't been out that long. The other man was a dark skinned fellow with graying hair, and lucid keen eyes. The eyes of an investigator.

Once Erik and I landed on the shore I opted to stand in the shadows behind Erik and learn what I could without being seen.

"It's about damn time you showed up, Erik. What took you?" The man asked angrily.

"It's good to see you too, Daroga." Erik greeted sarcastically. "I'm surprised at you two being here. Should not you two be enjoying the ball upstairs?"

"We're the only ones who can control you. Now answer me Erik, What have you done with detective Vanessa VanCartia?" Meg snapped.

"He's done absolutely nothing. I'm here, Alive and well, Meg. But you I'm disappointed in. You lied to me." I laughed.

"Well, I gave you a half truth anyway... My mother did tell me all that she knew. But that's beside the point. What are we going to do with that woman....?" Meg sighed in exasperation. "Damn Carlotta, she's a shameless liar. Right now she's spreading some cock- and- bull story of how she witnessed Erik killing you." I began to laugh, causing a few eyebrows to be raised.

"Just wonderful," I continued laughing. "This should be an interesting arrest... 'Detective's Ghost captures Opera criminal' the papers will say. I better finish what I've started" I suddenly went weak in the knees. I had over stressed myself in coming with Erik. Erik immediately caught me before I hit the ground.

"Take it easy. You were only just shot a few hours ago." Erik reprimanded exasperation evident in every syllable. He set me down on a fallen stone.

"Carlotta killed the Count?" Meg exclaimed in disbelief.

"My dear Meg, yes! And she damn well near killed me too! That's why she's spreading that distasteful fabrication." I explained, launching into the story, listing the clues. "I better get back up there and arrest her." I sighed in exasperation. This would be harder than I thought.

"Hold up. She's already fully convinced the Managers that you're dead," The Persian stated. "You need at least some help, Such as the Managers. We need to contact them first with the truth."

"Like they'd be much help..." Erik, Meg, and I muttered in unison.

"Yes, they could be. I guessed from your last encounter, that Carlotta will stop at nothing to keep herself out of repercussions. We need to have her in a position that leaves her powerless, Such as interrupting an Opera." The Daroga continued.

"Nadir, what are you getting at?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why don't we repeat what Erik did on the opening night of Don Juan? Switch places with one of the Actors of the opera. You Vanessa could do the switching. Carlotta would be crazy to incriminate herself in front of an audience!" Nadir stated.

"I can't sing,"

"You won't have to."

"....As to the whole replacing an actor with myself, I fear that I have no choice but to agree. It'll be the most effective, and keeping the Managers in the dark will keep them out of harm. Meg can you take me home?" I turned to the blonde and began to rise to leave when I was stopped by Nadir's uncertain calling of my name.

"Yes?"

"You're dead remember? You can't go home. That could tip Carlotta to what we're doing." Nadir stated pointedly.

"Well I can't stay with Meg. What do you suggest?" I responded irritated. Nadir just coughed and glanced at Erik long enough for me to get his point. Erik, who had been nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the tunnel we were in, suddenly righted himself, obviously catching what was going between us two detectives.

"You can't possibly be serious Nadir!" Erik and I said disbelievingly.

"What's going on with you three?" Meg exclaimed to no one's notice.

"I don't care to be staying in residence with a murdering tenor, No matter how long ago the murders were." I snapped.

"And I am not of the habit of allowing detectives to be guests in my home. No matter how successful or lack thereof." Erik sneered. At his statement I turned red with anger. How dare he!

"I'll have you know that I have single handedly solved more crimes than any other detective in the country of France!" I growled.

"Well, your keen intellect seems to have forgotten that I've saved your pathetic excuse for a life twice!" Erik hissed, our faces mere inches apart. I fumed and immediately hated this dark monster. And He wasn't so because of what he'd done or what I sensed he hid behind his mask. It was because of his manners. He acted the very pink of courtesy, but in truth he was the rudest, most egotistical man in the world!

"Two good deeds don't purge a man of a life time of wickedness..." I stated, glaring at Erik with every ounce of loathing I had in me. Any kind thoughts I had were dissipated.

"... Though it seems enough to condemn him!" He whispered with a spiteful smirk.

"Enough you two! If you don't come to a mutual agreement I'll make it for you!" Nadir shouted like a father toward his unruly children. "She's staying with you Erik! And I don't want to hear any complaints! Think about it this way. At least you won't have to listen to that red headed nuisance again."

"At the price of having a blonde one tossed at me." Erik stormed off to the boat.

"WHAT!? You can't just throw my freedom around like it's a toy! It's not yours to take!" I screeched in a fury. Nadir simply raised a hand in a sign of agreement.

"Peace, I implore you." He exclaimed in exasperation. "I completely agree with you, Mademoiselle Vanessa. Under other circumstances, I would never suggest this. Unfortunately, this is all we have. Bear with me." My fiery anger died into a fuming rage that I suppressed. I couldn't fight my way out of that apology.

"_Fine_." I hissed. Nadir bowed in an eastern form of thanks. I huffed and marched furiously to the boat, surprised to find Erik waiting.

"Say a word, and your ass is history." I snapped getting into the boat.

* * * *

_The Persian, Nadir_

As the two set off in the punt, I found myself hoping, as I had never dared hope before. This woman could be the answer to Erik's empty life. Here was a woman with the wit and temper to match him, yet there was also a twin loneliness I sensed in both of them. I could already see the calming affect she had on him. If it had been any other people than Detective VanCartia, who would be stuck underground, or me, who had made the suggestion, Erik would have flown into a fit of uncontrolled rage, not stopping until he had hurt himself. That alone was proof. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could be the key to healing Erik's shattered heart. Maybe I was imagining it, but I sensed an attraction between the two of them. An attraction I hoped was there, though the evidence for it was fleeting at best. The Detective, I could tell, was an iron fisted believer in the word of the law. Erik wasn't. I immediately set myself up to help this unusual woman. After the light on their punt had long since vanished, I turned to the effervescent Meg.

"Well, let's get started before the two of them kill each other," I smiled. Meg giggled in understanding as the two of us started up the long corridor to Christine's abandoned dressing room. The first thing to do was to contact my butler, Darrius. I never did anything without his assistance. He was a loyal friend who left his own wife and children behind to join me. The friendship we had had even grown stronger between us because of it. The Sha, himself, honored this loyalty by allowing him to return to Persia whenever he wished. I never stopped Darrius from doing so. I bore him no ill will for the permission to return to our home, for there was nothing there to call me back to my native land. After escorting Meg to the barracks of the Corp du ballet and to her little chicks, as she affectionately called her students, I left through the stables of the Opera and caught myself a cab for my apartment. The apartment I lived in was just above the stunning gardens of the Tuillerie, a small red bricked building along a tree lined avenue. After paying the driver, I made my way up the many flights of stairs to the fourth floor.

"Darrius, I need your help." I called from the door once I got home. Like a ghost He appeared at my side with a bow.

"Salaam, master. How may I be of service?"

"We need a plan," And with that I got to work on brainstorming ways to get the Detective back to the surface, before Erik took matters into his own hands and strangled her, while keeping Carlotta in the dark. Pity the singer was the killer. I liked her singing. Mind you, she was no Christine, but she was tolerable


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six-**

**A discovery of a different kind**

I sat before Erik in the punt, Both of us fuming at the situation. I had hoped, when I saw Meg, that she would take me from the 'Phantom' back to where I belonged. So much for that; I sat with my arms across me, resting on my knees in a haughty silence, daring to be goaded into a fight of the wit. In fact I had to give him credit, God that man was defiant.

Silence surrounded us as we drifted aimlessly through the dark labyrinthine lake. I felt his eyes drift moodily over my ill-tempered figure. I noticed that I gently turned my head toward him barely acknowledging him. Then stubbornly I turned my back to him childishly.

"Come now, Vanessa you can't still be angry with me. So stop acting." Erik stated irritated.

"How are you able to know if I'm angry or not? And I don't need to act! This anger is genuine!" I snapped as I turned to fix him with a malevolent glare. I couldn't forgive how easily Nadir could hand my freedom to this madman. Any man who could speak so casually of murder is obviously far from sane.

"You know, I am not pleased about this either but at least I'm not grimacing about this!" he snapped as the punt bumped upon the shore in front of his home. He opened the door for me and over heard me say something in an undertone.

"Bastard."

"So much for chivalry. No need to be so quarrelsome." Erik stated, placing his fedora and cloak on a stand by the door.

"If I am quarrelsome it's because you bring it out of me!" I snapped. "Now may I know where I may escape you so that I can find some peace?"

"You may use the guest bedroom. The door's behind you. You know the way." He responded with a brusque bow. He then left me, with a mild anger on his part, to myself. I screamed, venting all of my anger and frustration, and fear. I sank into the winged back chair, staring sullenly at the dying flames.

I sat watching the embers slowly dim in the fire place. After fifteen minutes I realized that our altercation could make things... difficult for me. After coming to this revelation I decided to make my peace with the arduous man. Rising to my feet I approached a black door. As I neared, the sound of a violin emanated from within, causing me to stop and listen in rapturous silence.

The tune was angry, sad, and dissolute. For a strange moment I felt overwhelming remorse for what I had said fill my entire being. I quietly burst into tears. But I wasn't quite enough it seemed. Suddenly the door opened and Erik stood looming over my kneeling form. I evoked all of my courage to raise my tear stained face to stare at his topaz eyes.

He stared down stiffly at the bleary eyed young woman on her knees before him. Slowly he knelt down with me as I stubbornly tried to hide the fact that I had been crying.

"Are you all right Mlle. VanCartia?" He asked. I gave an indignant sigh.

"Yes I'm fine!" I snapped, and then more mildly I continued. "I was going to apologize to you for my deplorable behavior. I normally don't act this way..."

"True, you normally are quite emotionless." He replied. I flushed slightly for the insult. The disturbing thought that he'd been watching me since I had started the case, unnerved me.

"That is a pre-requisite for investigating. This change is because you are so damn intimidating. I'm used to being the intimidator." I chuckled half heartedly for a moment then we drifted into silence.

"Was that you playing?" I asked timidly. "It was beautiful, Enchanting actually."

"Thank you." he responded quietly.

"I should have placed two and two together once I had realized that you wrote Don Juan, that you were no normal composer." I whispered leaning ever so slowly closer, we were mere centimeters apart. Part of me wanted to touch him, know that he wasn't some ghost that I was talking to.

"There is no need for flattery, I all ready know that." Erik sighed, emotionally exhausted. "But as to your apology, I must admit I could have acted better myself. I have an easily injured pride. I'll accept your apology if you will graciously accept mine."

"Very well, you have yourself a bargain. I bid you good night." I replied rising to my feet, desperate to leave the presence of a man whose music was the only thing to get any emotion beside irritation from me. Erik stayed kneeling as I disappeared behind the door to the room I had awoken from my fall in. I stood in the darkness of my temporary room, my back pressed against the door. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness I was in, I gently sat before the vanity, opening the drawers. They were filled with paper, pens, and the few cosmetics of a singer. But where was she now? I fished out a box of matches, lighting the few candles that had been resting on the vanity. I then noticed a crumpled letter in the back of the drawer. I pulled it out, and smoothed it on the vanity's marble top.

_'My hopes are most desperately lost. I was such a fool, so naive. How could I have deluded myself into thinking he was my father's angel of music? God forgive me I was blind! He has me tied up in this room with only enough movement to write. He did it so that I won't try to kill myself again. He said I didn't have the right to die just yet. I can't stand him; I just can't take the horror of his face. How could God have cursed such a man into being? Poor Erik. When I first saw him I couldn't help but cringe. His rage at the betrayal of his trust was so great. I pity his fear. He knew I wouldn't want to be with him. I don't know how many times he told me that he loved me. I just wish Raoul would stay away until after eleven tomorrow night. I fear what Erik meant by 'the departure of a great many members of the human race'. Oh god, please do not make me wed this monstrous man to save the life of hundreds of innocent people because I made the unwitting mistake of removing his mask. There is a noise from a door opposite the bathroom... Oh God, its Raoul!'_

The note ended with a hurried signature of the missing diva and a plea to god for assistance. A hand had clasped over my mouth to silence my gasp of horror. He _had_ killed them! I was right! Or was I over reacting? Could he have relented? I stared excitedly at my reflection in the mirror of the vanity, taking in the surroundings to calm my racing heart. The room was tastefully feminine with cream and ivory wall hangings. The wood Armoire and the legs of the vanity were made of a pale wood, yew I surmised. I stepped over to the Armoire and tugged its wide doors opened.

"Deduction proven." I muttered as I eyed the frilly frocks of a young woman at least twenty years out of date. And something told me that the woman who had once worn them was Christine Daae. I found rumpled in the back a white wedding veil and gown and lifted it gently. Seeing that small item of a long tossed dream, I smiled in pity. I took it and folded it properly. It was a beautiful cut and made of silk. I gently fingered the pearl trim on the sleeve cuffs admiring its designer's craftsmanship. Poor Erik indeed, to have loved a woman who's feelings stood on borderline pity and loathing. I knew now for a fact that he had a deformity under the mask. I made a mental note not to bring that subject up, or I would risk a fate similar to that of the two lovers, Raoul and Christine. I begrudgingly removed a night shift from its place in the hanging chest, slipped out of the ruined Cornflower blue satin dress I had worn at the Masquerade, and secretly hoped to procure some of my own clothes from home. I pulled the low cut, white linen gown over my body and stood admiring how it flowed with my body's natural curves. I quickly pulled a comb through my listless straight hair, gently snuffed out the candles and with a satisfied smile, I drifted to the bed. I climbed into the four poster and was almost instantaneously lulled to sleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sight of a note in red ink and sealed with a red wax skull and a cup of tea nestled upon a night stand. I couldn't help smirking at the thought of Erik staring at me as I slept. Sitting up I extended my hand toward the minuscule letter. Breaking the wax I read the red lettering.

'_My dear Detective,_

_Nadir and I have gone to retrieve a few of your toiletries and garments for you. My house is to be at your disposal. Feel free to go anywhere you wish in the rooms._

_Erik.'_

I set the note nonchalantly back on the table and began to sip the tea. I silently rose from the sheets and sat in front of the mirror. Staring blindly at my form, I began to comb my hair with Christine's silver handled brush, humming a tune I remembered from Don Juan. I slowly ceased all movement as the realization of what I was humming dawned on me. I stared at my reflection with a puzzled and subtly angry expression.

"Now Vanessa, Remember how touched you were at the opening. This is just because you are in the home of the composer. It has no connection to the man himself." I told myself sternly.

"Are you so sure?" My emotions seemed to ask with mild laughter. I finished the tea in one, manly gulp. As I placed the china back on its saucer I noticed that the note I had found the night before was missing, and I exited the room. Staring at the fire grate I saw the charred remains of the note written in delicate handwriting.

* * * *

_The Persian, Nadir_

The brougham rocked as it trudged through the snow on its way to the Rue du Notre Dame. After one particularly violent jerk, Erik broke into a stream of curses that could have blistered even a sailor's ears.

"This is almost worse than that woman. " Erik growled at me. "She's such a pain in the ass."

"I'm not asking you to marry the girl. Just tolerate her for a few days while I arrange everything. Darrius has connections in the Opera that may prove useful." I sighed.

Erik's temper hadn't changed since Mazan Daren. His temper nearly cost him his life when he risked angering the Sha in Sha. That was why I was here instead of there. I had nearly lost my life removing him from Persia. Now, I was merely exiled, which wasn't as bad as one might think. I had no great loyalty to Persia, Only to Allah, Especially now that I had no reason to be there, my son's soul being with the all mighty one and his prophet Mohammad. I look back on the day he died with bittersweet fondness. My son had been dying from a fatal disease, slowly deteriorating to nothing. Erik had brought the most joy into his life, and it was Erik who had tenderly ended it. I remember how he treated Resa as a favored nephew would be treated by his uncle, and how gently he handed Resa's painlessly dying body to me so that I could say the final rites.

"I don't give a damn about Darrius' connections," Erik snapped, drawing me from my reverie. "Just get her out!" I smiled sadly in pity of the good man buried under those layers if anger.

"Tolerance really isn't a word in your extensive vocabulary is it?" I rebuked. My response was guarded as I remembered the Angel of Death he had been in Mazan Daran, especially how vehemently he had tried to be the one to murder the grand Vizier out of a desire for revenge. His fury was not to be toyed with.

"Forgive me Nadir; I'm just uncomfortable with having her in my house. You know how I am." Erik muttered.

"A loner? Yes, you are most certainly that. But surely you must see why I chose you? Your home is impossible to find unless one already knows where it is. And she most likely feels just as awkward about it as you do." I stated, giving Erik a playfully supportive shove. "Rise to the Occasion, my good man."

"Oh enough out of you Nadir." Erik rolled his eyes and turning to stare distractedly out the window, smiling softly. I just laughed. The coach came to a stop and we jumped from its cabin. I stepped up to the door of a red bricked townhouse, the snow crunching underfoot. Once I'd knocked, the door swung open in a hurried way. A young girl no more than eighteen stood before us.

"Bon soir Mlle." I gave my salutation with a suave kiss on the girl's hand. The young woman blushed and curtsied.

"Bon soir Monsieur. How may I help you?" The Girl asked quizzically.

"Ah yes. My cohort and I were sent by Mlle. VanCartia to retrieve a few of her possessions. She's much occupied with the case and won't be home for a few weeks." I answered.

"Why don't you come inside out of the cold and I'll fetch her things."

"We'd prefer to say out here..." I began knowing Erik's discomfiture.

"No no. You come inside." The girl responded, practically pulling us inside. The girl trotted up the stairs in excitement. Erik and I stood in the antiseptic hall as the girl rushed about up stairs.

"Not one for decoration is she?" Erik whispered, taking in the pale yellow walls, lacking any ornamentation.

"Not very, it seems." I responded with a smile. Erik and I fell silent as a butler passed by with a silver picture frame. Finally, after fifteen minutes the girl came down the stairs and handed an overstuffed valise to me.

"I hope I haven't forgotten anything. You tell Vanessa that Natalie says be careful." She laughed. I bowed again and gave her the traditional French thank you.

"I shall do so." Erik and I then returned to the coach in order to return to the Opera before it was opened for that night's show. The uncomfortable way back was less oppressive and I managed to enjoy Erik's moody company. We pulled up to the back of the theater and Erik slipped out of the cabin.

"Erik, don't forget this." I stated, tossing the valise at him.

"You are such an ass." Erik scoffed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Keep out of trouble."

"I should say the same to you, _Monsieur le Fantome_. Promise you won't kill the woman yourself." I laughed.

"I won't make a promise I can't keep."

"You never would." And with that we parted ways. I watched as Erik disappeared into the shadows of the Opera House as the Brougham pulled away.

* * * *

_The Phantom_

_(As written by Erik)_

"Welcome back Monsieur. I trust your outing was a pleasant one." Vanessa's voice rang through the room as I placed my fedora in its customary spot on the hat stand. I spotted Vanessa over on the chaise reading a book of poetry, her corn silk hair was fanned out over her shoulders as her head laid nestled on one of the pillows. I noticed that Christine's old night dress looked lovely on Vanessa, causing memories of beautiful Christine to come resonating with a painful tug at my heart.

"It was uneventful. Here," I responded, tossing the valise at her. She caught it deftly.

"Wonderful." She gave a sigh of relief and set the valise down on the floor beside her. I uneasily removed my cloak, Feeling awkward as I sensed her eyes upon me. I wasn't used to having another person in my home. Vanessa sat on the Chaise, resting her chin and hands upon her knees.

"Is it customary in your little world to enter a sleeping woman's room without permission?" She rose to her feet, eyes accusing me of an alleged crime.

"You obviously don't mind." I replied with gentle sarcasm.

"This is no time to be an ass Erik!" Vanessa snapped, then caught herself and continued calmly. "Look. Next time could you knock first? ....Please."

"As you wish." I bowed, deciding to acquiesce to her whim. She stepped from the chaise and stood before me, hands on her hips.

"You found Mlle. Daae's Note, didn't you?" She said remorsefully.

"It's nothing that I haven't heard before from her very lips."

"No one deserves to be treated that way, no matter how... Different... they may be. But you didn't have to burn it yourself. I should have done it."

"Don't fool yourself Vanessa. You would have kept it as evidence against me. After all you're convinced I killed them." I snapped.

"You don't know what I'm convinced of. Must you always assume the worst of people?" Vanessa growled in irritation.

"I've usually been right."

"Well, you are quite mistaken with _this_ Member of the human race." Vanessa took her valise in hand and strode to the guest room. I sensed more than saw that she stopped at the door. "By the way, thank you. For saving my life, everything."

"Well believe me or not, I do the right thing every now and then." I stated. "Oh and that Natalie girl says be careful." I then shut the door to my music room, privacy necessary for me to control my upwelling of anger. I try to be hospitable and I get it thrown in my face! Metaphorically so. God, Nadir! Hurry up with the details and get her out of my life!

The days passed and Vanessa and I set into a pattern. I would wake about an hour before her and immediately set to composing the latest concerto or nocturne. She'd then rise from sleep and begin the day by making some coffee for the both of us. When I accepted the drink we were courteous to each other. An unspoken agreement came up between us, treat one another with respect and things would work out smoothly. It worked because we gave ourselves the privacy we needed during all hours of the day. Rarely did we speak and when we did she was quite opinionated.

One day, about a half week after Vanessa had arrived in my home, a knock rang through the room I'd made my refuge.

"You may come in." I responded, rearranging the staff paper I'd been writing on. The click of the door signaled her otherwise silent entrance. She placed a tray of china on a dinette and quietly set the cup and saucer. After herself appointed task was finished she came and stood next to the piano bench.

"Might I inquire as to what you are composing?" her voice cut the silence. I glanced at her setting my hands on the keys and had to glance again. She was wearing a gentleman's button down shirt and a particularly form fitting pair of trousers in a pale gray. The top three buttons of the shirt were undone and her hair was pulled loosely back with one of Christine's old hair pins, leaving a few strands to frame her features. I quickly looked away and focused demonically upon the music I was playing. She pulled away and sat in a spare chair. I finished playing, rising to my feet. A thought crossed my mind and I almost hesitated to enact it.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

"Would you like to play something from Don Juan?" Erik asked.

"I don't know how to play..." I answered sheepishly. Erik gave a chuckle and extended a black gloved hand.

"That's not important." He stated. I hesitantly took his hand and sat at the piano. Erik placed his hands on mine and positioned them on the proper keys. His lips brushed against my ear as he softly sang. I drifted between reality and the fantasy he created with his music. I hummed along with him feeling at peace for the first time in my life. Erik drifted to silence and I was almost rudely brought back to reality. I noticed that Erik was staring at my forearm in a curious way. I followed his gaze and realized that my shirt sleeve had been raised slightly, revealing the end of a scar. I hurriedly attempted to hide it, but Erik gave me a pointed glance and removed my hand.

"What happened?" His shocked whisper tore at my pride.

"I was on a case. A criminal threw me against a wall in such a way that I broke my arm. I still managed to cuff him and get him to prison. It's the consequence to being a detective; you get beaten around every now and then. "

Erik's eyes flashed in anger for a moment. "This was a man's doing? And you still over took him?" The anger and disbelief was incredibly apparent.

"It's not the first time I've had to take a blow. I've been shot at more times than I can remember, I can't recall what bones I haven't broken at least once, and I've been stabbed in the diaphragm twice. It's all been unimportant." I responded in mock disinterest. He seemed generally displeased with the criminals and ruffians I'd dealt with. That worry scared me more that the deepest pit of hell. It opened my heart to the strangest feelings and urges.

"Unimportant? You should never have had to deal with that! Those men had better have faced the greatest penance that could be given for not only harming an officer but a lady as well."

Erik's outburst showed me that he wasn't just a murderer or a kidnapper. He had very powerful morals that would not be bent simply because he was at contention with someone. I had a new positive light shined upon his mysterious mentality and it changed my perception of him.

"If you believe that, then why have you killed so many people?" I asked in a wavering way.

"Everyone dies. I just choose the time and place for some." The statement was odd but it was also logical as to why he seemed so honorable at times. I was keenly aware that a strange feeling came over me as I stared at his brilliant gold topaz eyes. My stomach clenched. I cleared my throat nervously and rose to my feet.

"Excuse me." I hurriedly left the room and almost ran to Christine's, anything to escape the image of his anger on my behalf. I shut the door behind me, leaning against it. I suddenly sank to the floor, hiding my tears. God I wished my life had taken a different turn and that I had never met the man in the leather mask. A few hours later I felt calm enough to head to the kitchen and make myself some tea to calm me further. I absentmindedly set the pot on the stove and waited for it to boil. While doing so, I reached into the cupboard and grabbed a teacup. A crash resounded through the kitchen as the teacup smashed to the floor.

"Erik! God damn it! Would you stop being so stealthy!" I growled, kneeling on the floor to clean up the mess. Erik had come up behind me and the result was being carelessly picked up.

"Ouch!" I dropped the pieces as a small sprouting of scarlet liquid rose from an angry gash on my palm. "Damn." I cursed recollecting the pieces and throwing them into a waste bin. I then examined the wound further.

"Let me look at it." Erik ordered.

"No. It's fine, really." I protested.

"Just. Let. Me. See. It." after emphasizing every word, Erik gave an exasperated sigh as I exposed my hand to him. His eyes expertly analyzed the injury and he immediately grabbed a hand towel from the sink and began cleaning it. The gentleness with which he tended my hand sent shivers through me. I didn't know what had come over me. I was utterly lost as far as this was concerned. No one had taught me on how to control these strange feelings. I had to stop Erik's control over me before I went mad. Erik left the room, buying me some peace of mind for a minute before he returned with gauze to bandage the wound. Once he was finished, he glanced up at me; our faces almost too close for comfort. Erik moved to place the gauze on the counter and we contacted. For a fleeting moment our lips met and Erik immediately pulled away. There was a tense pause before we seemed to hungrily lust for each other's lips. I lost all control, melting in his embrace as we kissed. Unconsciously, I felt myself being laid back on the table, not caring what happened next. I felt strange warmth inside that excited me as much as I was frightened by it. There was a pause, and then Erik pulled away and left silently, obviously shocked himself. As I slid off of the table and sank to my knees on the floor, I couldn't shake the feeling that we had passed a turning point. Slowly, I went to my room for a fitful night's sleep

The next afternoon found Erik in the parlor, which was a first since I had arrived into his presence. He was reading a medical book, examining the text with a focus unequaled by anyone else. He suddenly fixed me with his full attention

* * * *

_The Phantom_

_(As written by Erik)_

"Good Afternoon."

"Good afternoon. About yesterday.... I just..." Vanessa began.

"I'm partly to blame myself. So you need not mention it again. Now, if you don't mind, would you allow me the honor of your company? There's something I'd like to show you." I stated politely. I watched as she nodded her head mutely. I rose to my feet and donned my usual cloak and fedora, and tossed a cloak at her.

"Vanessa, please follow me." I beckoned as I headed for the door. I helped her into the gondola and we silently crossed the midnight tinted lake. I couldn't help noticing the curious stares she shot at me. The punt stopped with a lurch and I swiftly moored it to the shore. Vanessa exited the water craft cautiously.

"Erik, where are we going?" She asked quietly as I lit a gas lamp to guide us.

"You'll see." I gave her a knowing smile. "Just trust me." I took her hand and lead her through the winding paths of the labyrinth. I guided us to Christine's now deserted dressing room with little difficulty and triggered the counter weight system. The mirror slid open effortlessly and the two of us seemed to glide into the room.

Once we were through I shut the mirror and snuffed out the lamp. I gestured for silence and opened the hallway door. A small wall sconce illuminated the long and empty corridor of the Opera Garnier. I then gestured for Vanessa to follow me. Slipping into the shadows we traveled down the hall. After turning the corner I quickly backed us into a deeply shadowed concave of the wall, two lovers were joined in a scandalous liaison. An empty and slightly angry feeling fell to the pit of my heart.

"It's rude to stare." Vanessa whispered with amusement. I once again grasped her hand in my possession and I proceeded to guide Vanessa to the service stairs and up to the roof to show her what I deemed the most spectacular view in Paris. Her gasp assured me that I wasn't alone in that opinion.

"Oh my god," She whispered, staring at the setting sun "Why, it's beautiful."

The clouds were laced with purple, rose and gold while the sky faded from a pastel ice to navy. The Sine was a river of molten bronze and Notre Dame was tinted rust red by the waning light. Vanessa's expression of rapture evoked the smallest surge of jealousy that I hadn't created or painted the beauty she so avidly gazed upon. I mentally sketched Vanessa's features as the fading light created beautiful contours to her almond face, illuminating her green eyes. As we stood there a light snowfall began to float down around us. Vanessa gasped in joy at the timing.

"You must be very proud." She stated, tearing her eyes away from the sunset and resting them on me. I felt repulsed by my very being after Vanessa stared at me so casually. If she only knew what a monster she blessed with her benevolent gaze. "You own the finest view in France." I sat at the base of Apollo's lyre and fixed her with a solemn gaze.

"Only up here do I believe in God's mercy. How can an unjust dictator create something so stunning?" I mused, examining the just appearing stars, letting the snow dust the part of my face that was bare. Vanessa glided over and sat next to me.

"You're an aeithist?"

"Is that so unbelievable?"

"No. In fact I can relate." She smiled.

I gave her a sideways glance. "Really? How so?" I asked angrily.

"When you've seen what I have... a woman murdered after a rapist is finished with her, gang fights among various guilds of thieves, ... You tend to question the higher powers" Her response was direct, yet I sensed that she was hiding something from her own past. My insatiable curiosity wanted to pry the secret from her but common decency told me to leave well enough alone. Vanessa nervously glanced at the edge of the building, moving ever so closer to the entrance to the opera's roof. She rose to her feet and tried to leave, her fear of heights over coming her.

"Vanessa...' I called. "Wait.' I rose to my feet and grasped her wrist. She turned her face toward me to give me a malevolent glare. I silently lead her to the edge of the roof, a chilled wind whipping our coats. Vanessa tensed when I brought her within two feet of the precipice. I stood behind her, gently resting my hands lightly on her shoulders.

"There is no need for you to be so tense. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm trying to help you."

"Well you're doing a terrible job of it." Vanessa snapped. I stifled a chuckle as Vanessa instinctively backed into me. The feeling felt oddly perfect. Having her right against me was intoxicating. What am I saying? I caught myself and continued my encouragement.

"Just look. Heights aren't any different from the ground if you know what you are doing. You just have to be a bit smarter about it. And, as you see, there are some rewards, such as your clue, and right now. The city is a different place up here." Vanessa gave me a bewildered glance, and then peered over the edge at the lamp lit city streets below. A small smile crossed her lips as the reality of my words dawned on her. I then offered my hand to her, which she accepted, and lead us back home. Once we crossed on the boat, I helped her out and opened the door for the two of us. We went inside and I could see a yawn cross her face.

"Off to bed with you. " I ordered mockingly. Vanessa rolled her eyes and went to the door of her room. "Good Night... Vanessa." I couldn't stop myself from saying her name. She paused for a moment, turning and just looking at me for a moment. It wasn't threatening, or angry, just calculating. It was like she was trying to put me together in her head. I knew how difficult that could be when there were times I didn't even know myself.

"Good night... Erik." She smiled before disappearing behind the door.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

On day ten of my imprisonment, I sat reading in the parlor. Erik had gone out to get some necessities, and I happened to have free time to splurge. Suddenly there was the familiar sound of the door bell ringing. I rose to my feet wondering who it could be. Erik had another way of getting in and out of the house, so I knew it wasn't him. A few moments later and Nadir peeked his head in the door.

"Greetings." He smiled, his face wrinkling pleasantly. "Is Erik home?"

"No sir, But I believe he will be quite soon." I answered gesturing to the armchair. Nadir obliged. Once he was comfortable, I pounced for information.

"So what is happening up there?"

"Same as ever. Carlotta is just crowing under her good fortune. She seriously believes you are rotting here in the lake. The Police are mounting search after search for you." Nadir responded wearily. I could see that he was drained from the effort of planning almost everything single handedly. Heavy circles were under his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped.

"Nadir... you know I could have helped organize the stake out if you hadn't banished me down here." I stated both bitterly and cajolingly.

"You are helping me a great deal by staying here. There is honestly no way you could help if you are seen. Don't worry; I've got my butler Darrius, Meg, and Erik on the job helping me." He gave me a pointed glare.

"This is my case!" I exclaimed in exasperation.

"And you've done the hard part already. Let someone else help you for once. You don't have to stand alone." Nadir responded as a fellow law enforcer. An understanding silence came between us.

"Nadir... How long have you known Erik? Has he always been... so... cold?" Nadir fixed me with a calculating glance, weighing the pros and cons of answering my question.

"Erik would kill me for saying it, but yes." Nadir grinned. "I've known him for almost twenty years. Let it suffice to say that he performed a great deed for me that I could never repay."

"Oh," was all I could say. I don't know why, but I felt a strange form of relief knowing he wasn't distant because of me. At that moment, Erik returned, looking as refined as ever.

"Guess who decided to pay you a visit," I smiled as Erik approached his friend.

"Everything alright, my friend?" he asked as he placed a hand in a brotherly fashion on the Persian's shoulder.

"As good as it can get at the moment," Nadir responded. "May I have a word? Alone?" Did I imagine the glance Nadir flashed at me when he said that?

"Certainly. Forgive me, Vanessa." Erik nodded to me before disappearing behind the door to his music room.

* * * *

_The Persian, Nadir_

"Well Erik, how are things?" I asked. What I had seen in the Parlor had lead me to believe in hope for my friend. I had never seen him behave so warmly, even to me or Resa. Had he finally let his guard down? And the Detective's smile made me leap at the thought that she too could see the good in the man.

"Vanessa and I have a begrudging respect for one another, if that is what you are asking," Erik responded fixing me with a pointed glare. I raised my hands in surrender. "If anything, we give each other a wide berth. But I doubt you came all the way down here just to have a bit of small talk with an old friend."

"Yes."

"So what did you want to speak with me about?" Erik gestured toward a spare seat, which I accepted. A sheepish smile crossed my features.

"Could you do your ghost act on the Detective's behalf? It will be much easier to get her out if the tenants thought they were seeing a ghost. I'm sure it will be less likely to reach Carlotta's ears as well," I answered. Erik burst into laughter.

"The two phantoms of the opera, yes? I can't wait to hear the connections the girls in the Corps will make between the two of us. It should prove to be interesting," Erik rose to his feet, folding his hands behind him. "Too bad I have to share the title with her."

"Thank you, Erik," I sighed in relief. "You have no idea how much you have just helped me."

I then excused myself and left the house by the lake to resurface the upper world. I immediately went to seek out the Managers and let them know of the plan. Well, at least part of it. I found them in their office, after sneaking past the secretary. Their backs were turned to the door as they pored over some financial documents.

"Good evening, Messieurs." They leapt a foot in the air and spun around to face me.

"Good god! Where did you come from?" Monsieur Moncharmin asked.

"The Detective is alive and well, but she needs the police's help. She wants to know if they may be allowed here during the next opening night." I answered. A look of joy crossed the Managers' faces.

"Where is she?" Monsieur Firmin asked.

"I cannot say. There has been an attempt to kill her, and she has gone into hiding."

"My god! She was right about it being _him_," Moncharmin interrupted in shock. "Tell that woman that she may have as many police here as she needs anything to stop that madman! This Fiasco has to end." I didn't bother to correct the comment. Let them think Erik was behind it, so long as I got the answer I needed. I bowed and thanked the men for their time. I then went to the police headquarters to set up reinforcements for next week's opera. Walking up the steps to the heavy oak doors, I prepared to drop the most tantalizing hint I could to get the Surte to be at the opera at the appointed hour.

"May I help you, Monsieur?" The desk clerk asked me as I closed the door.

"Yes, Detective VanCartia sent me." I lied. The expression on the clerk's face changed from one of boredom to excitement as he called an official. Ten minutes later and a man with slicked back blonde hair appeared.

"Good evening, Monsieur. I'm Chief- Inspector Ledoux. I've been informed that you know where the Detective is," He said, all business.

"Never mind where she is. She bid me tell you that she has found the murderer and begs you to be present at the opening night of the next performance at the Opera Populair to aid her in the arrest," I answered. "She said also that everything would be explained in time, but couldn't risk a personal meeting with you due to an attempt on her life. Will you aid her?"

There was a tense pause where the Chief- Inspector seemed to be weighing the validity. I had no trouble keeping calm, He was easier to handle than the Sha had ever been.

"I will." The Chief- Inspector responded finally.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

"Oh Meg. What am I going to do with him? He's so . . . I have never felt so confined. I just wish I could get out." I snapped slamming a tea cup onto the table. A week had passed and it was wearing on me. Erik's enchanting music, spellbinding voice, and changing moods had me constantly on edge. I was always on alert should I need to steel myself from his distracting nature. How Christine could have escaped him, I do not know. He always had every fiber of my attention, my own being. And what made it worse was that I was increasingly losing things to distract me. I had read almost every book in Erik's extensive library.

"I'm sorry, but you know what Nadir said." Meg sighed, massaging her temple as she stirred sugar into her tea. Rehearsals for next week's opera were beginning to wear on her. She had assumed the role of Prima Ballerina and Dance instructor as result of her mother's death and the responsibility was getting to her.

"Yes, I damn well know what Nadir said." I muttered, sinking deeper into the winged back Chair. I wasn't used to being a prisoner. I had written to Natalie to instruct her on how to keep the house in order while I was gone. That was the reason I now sat quietly in Erik's parlor undisturbed, With Meg as a companion at his request.

"Why did it have to be me? I spend all of my time on the first case I get and this is what happens." I actually started to laugh.

"Say, Christine left some things down here, did she not?" Meg stared at the fireplace in a reverie.

"Yes. She has quite a few garments down here." I rose to my feet and took Meg's hand in mine. I quickly lead her to Christine's old room. She immediately went to the armoire and looked the garments over.

"Perfect!"

"What is perfect?" I asked, not really paying attention.

"Vanessa, you need a day to be someone else, and I'm going to help you." That got my attention. It was clear what she wanted.

"No, Meg."

"Come on Nessa," Meg laughed.

"No."

"Please?" Meg was starting to make a fool of her.

"I couldn't possibly..."

"You are the same height and weight as her. You could fit in them perfectly." Meg persisted.

"I don't wear dresses." I snapped.

"I've noticed. You certainly do prefer to dress like a man."

"And I prefer to keep it that way." Meg rose to her feet and forced me to sit at the Vanity. I suddenly learned what her mother was like.

"Listen here, Vanessa VanCartia. Dresses don't make a woman silly or conceited. My mother was as strong willed and independent as you are and she wore dresses. The heart makes the woman, not the clothes. I'm not asking you to change who you are, just to have a little enjoyment in life and give something new a try." Meg stated in mock severity.

"Oh very well." In no time at all Meg had me out of my suit and laced into a blue day gown with little effort on her part.

I stood before the vanity's mirror and stared at myself. The silvery white of the fabric had a sheen to it as the candle light flickered. The sleeves were to the elbow and trimmed in pearl edged snow white lace. The low cut collar was scalloped and sheer lace made it reach the lower neck.

"Something's not right." Meg muttered to herself. Before I could stop her, she unpinned my hair from its severe bun, falling in waves around my shoulders. We both gasped, her's of amusement, mine of shock. Meg leaned forward and, both of us staring at the reflection, she whispered in my ear.

"Vanessa, look at you. You're Brilliant."

Suddenly the main door of the house swung open with Erik gliding into the Parlor. I gave a shriek and toppled off of the Vanity stool in surprise. Meg started giggling and extended a hand for me to use in assistance.

"Oh very funny Meg." I snapped in embarrassment

Once I was righted, I started to stutter an explanation. The flash of pain in Erik's eyes was evidently clear.

"I'm sorry. I was.... And..."

"It suits you far better than those suits you traditionally wear." Erik stated coldly, indifferently. I flushed in embarrassment. I felt so out of place in the garment, and Erik was the last person I wanted to see me in a _white_ dress. Erik reached out and brushed a few strands of hair from my face. Then he turned from the two of us and disappeared behind the door of his music room. I collapsed on the chaise in confusion. Surely he should have been angry with me, which was the last thing I needed.

"Well I best be off. I have ballerinas to train," Meg stated, taking her cloak from the coat rack. "See how long you can take being in that dress." And with that she departed. I sat there, dumbfounded. What the hell was happening to me? I had the strangest feeling of pride, as if I was glad that Erik had seen me. I mildly enjoyed getting a rise from him. I shook my head and grasped a book from the stacks near the walls, determined to clear my thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven-**

**Confessions**

The sound of the mantel piece clock chiming midnight woke me. I was still on the chaise, but the book had fallen to the floor unwanted in my sleep. The sound of an organ permeated the walls of the parlor, resonating from Erik's Music room. I rose to my feet, the gown making me look like a specter, and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I opened the door a crack and peered inside, I couldn't see much for everything was out of view. I opened the door further, even dared to step inside. Erik sat hunched over the keyboard composing a song he'd worked on for days. He'd played it so many times I could almost hum each measure. I stepped forward and noticed the mask on the piano bench. I glanced up at his face to see that he was staring at me from a slightly malformed visage.

"What are you doing in here?" Erik hissed, launching to his feet, flying across the room, and grabbing me by my hair. "Have you come to stare at the corpse of the Phantom?" He pinned me to the wall and I stared fearfully at his eyes. Insane fear and anger filled them to no end.

"Get out!" Erik shouted, tossing me at the door. I fell to the floor and tumbled till I found my feet. I sprang to a guard stance and glared at him.

"It's not that bad you know." I shouted unheeded. Erik hurled the dinette table at me with a strength I couldn't fathom, shouting the order again. I ducked in time and ran out the door to Christine's room. Slamming open the Armoire I grabbed the first thing I could. A white cloak that matched the wedding gown perfectly.

"Plan or no plan, I can't stay here another minute." I told myself, pulling the cloak over my head. I raced to the front door and pulled open the latch, the sound of breaking glass filling the room. I slipped out the door and sprinted along the shore of the underground lake, desperate for any way out of these catacombs.

"VANESSA!" Erik called after me. I slipped down a passage leading up and felt my way along in the pitch black, hurt making my eyes sting with repressed tears. I would not cry. I couldn't afford the tears. Suddenly I slammed into a door. It gave way to me easily and I fell out into the stable courtyard facing the Rue Scribe. The night was lit by the full moon and the fallen snow made everything all the brighter. I rose to my feet and took off down the Rue Scribe. The fresh crisp air nipped at my face and I felt free for the first time in weeks. I tossed little piles of snow in the air and reveled in the sensation of it sprinkling across my face. I'm sure I looked like a gleeful northern sprite. Freedom. If Carlotta knew I was alive I didn't care. I'd find a better way to catch her. Suddenly Erik's voice calling my name stopped my joy. I quickly ducked behind an Oak as Erik followed my tracks in the snow.

"Vanessa, Come on out." Erik snapped. "You are being child.... "He was silenced mid sentence by a ball of snow.

"No, _that_'s childish." I stated, poking my head from behind the tree, another snowball in hand. "Now apologize."

"For what?"

He dodged the aim of the next toss.

"For being so irrationally angry." I answered. I found myself jumping behind the tree to avoid Erik's return fire.

"You shouldn't have invaded my privacy!" He exclaimed.

"If you are so uncomfortable with yourself, why'd you remove your mask?" I questioned.

"I thought you were asleep." Erik yelled incredulously.

"Yet you knew I was in the vicinity. That's not a good enough answer." I expressed pointedly, laughing as Erik responded to my last bombardment of snow with a volley of his own.

"All right, I admit it. I've grown accustomed to your presence in my home." Erik vociferated. I paused in my attack and straightened my stance.

"What?" I asked disbelievingly.

"You heard me. You have become a... painful reality to my life. I'm right beside you when it comes down to waiting for the chance for you to leave." Erik stated stepping towards me until he was less than a foot away. I gave him a shove, now that reality was restored, and laughed whole heartedly.

I turned and ran further down the causeway playfully looking back to see if he was following. I was suddenly grabbed from behind and spun into the air by Erik as we fell into a drift of snow. I stared up at Erik's face, now masked, as he lent over me to help me to my feet. We stood there staring at each other for what seemed like hours, surrounded by candle lit display windows of closed shops. Christmas Wreathes hung from the gas street lamps and people walking pass had the air of joy that accompanied this season. Erik offered me his arm and together we walked down the streets of Paris.

"Tell me Vanessa, how does a woman like yourself end up being the way you are?" Erik asked.

"Oh. ... You mean my eccentricities?"

"Not to put too fine a point on it." Erik responded.

I gave a heavy sigh as memories of my life flashed before me. "My parents died when I was very young. They had been murdered by a group of criminals they had borrowed money from. After the funeral, I was sent to live with my Uncle who proceeded to teach me how to use a gun, use self defense, and on how to use my cognitive abilities to put two and two together. He knew those men would show up eventually for me in order to collect my parent's debt. He wanted me to be prepared. Once I had those skills, I decided that I would try and stop those criminals from killing ever again, which I ended up succeeding in. They all have life sentences. I was not just going to sit and wait for them to come to me.

The style of clothing just came with the fact that they were more sensible for my line of work. And you? What's your story?"

"You all ready pieced it together." Erik danced around my inquirery.

"There must be more to it than Christine." I asked. Erik and I sat on a bench and I listened avidly as he gave me his narrative. He spoke of a vain girl named Luciana, of being the Angel of Death in Persia and of helping with the building of the Paris Opera. I was horrified by the brief mention of a gypsy man called Javert and was delighted to know he had died, which coming from me was saying something. Yet, I was the most indignant when Erik mentioned his mother, the woman who showed him the first real taste of the world's scorn of him.

"The rest you know." Erik finished.

"I can't imagine going through what you have. You are an extraordinary man, Erik" I rested a hand on his shoulder. He stared at me, searching my face for some hint of falsehood. I rested my head on his shoulder and continued. "You and I aren't so different from each other. We both are considered strange by 'normal' people." Erik gave a small understanding smile as I gave his hand a supportive squeeze. I realized that despite our bickering, I had become fond of Erik. Sure he was trying most of the time but he was good hearted all the same. Being so close to him I noticed the full beauty of his fire laced eyes. I could feel his breath on my face as I was drawn in to those amber pools. I found myself wondering what it would have been like to be hated by every person you came in contact with. Then, in a terrifying moment of revelation, I realized I had fallen in love with Erik. I don't know why it had taken me so long to realize it. I never thought that I would ever let my guard down enough to fall for anyone, let alone the infamous Phantom of the Opera.

"Erik... I...," I stumbled to say something to end the interminable silence.

"Yes, Vanessa?" Erik fixed me with his gold eyes. There was a look behind them as if he was waiting for me to say what it was I wanted to tell him but couldn't. Who was I kidding? He had already called me a _painful reality_. Besides, how could I compare to the likes of Christine Daae? That woman was the epitome of style and femininity. God, I was starting to sound like a lovesick child, or a romantic.

"Erik? Vanessa?" Nadir's familiar voice broke the silence of the abandoned streets. "What in Allah's name do you think you're doing?!" Erik and I Immediately pulled away. Even with the anger in his voice, I had never been more pleased to hear that Middle Eastern accent before.

"Are you two crazy? Carlotta could have seen you...."Nadir continued.

"Stop the brow beating, Nadir. Carlotta wouldn't have recognized Vanessa in this." Erik gestured to the gown. "Besides, this isn't your case. It's Vanessa's. She knows what she's doing."

"I needed some fresh air Nadir, I was suffocating down there." I glared at the Persian detective in disdain for his outrage.

"You're right. I apologize. May I join you two? I've got something's to explain." Nadir muttered as Erik gently steered us to the Opera House.

* * * *

_The Phantom_

_(As written by Erik)_

Two days. Two days was what was left of Vanessa's stay. I felt mixed Emotions, sitting in my parlor listening to Nadir's plan. One, I'd be free to be myself again, but on the other I had come to value Vanessa's opinions of me. She'd been in my thoughts often in the past few weeks. I felt fear at the thought that I'd possibly grown attached. No, it no longer was a possibly. I had grown attached. I loved the woman! I would do almost anything if it would make her want to stay with me. But I learned my lesson the hard way from Christine. I needed to let her live her own life.

"Basically we sneak back stage while no one's looking, get Vanessa on stage to expose Carlotta as the liar and murderer she is, and cover her should things get violent or dangerous. And I know it sounds supremely easy but it really isn't. If even one actor sees us, the plan will be ruined." Nadir stated, pacing the length of the room. He then stared at Vanessa with a curious expression that turned into a mischievous gleam. "You should wear that Vanessa. If someone did see you they'd think you were a ghost."

"I'm not going to complain." Vanessa sighed in disappointment. "I just want to point out that I hate this thing." I started to hide my smile as Nadir nodded his head in understanding.

"That settled, you need to go." I stepped toward the front door so that Nadir could leave. Nadir left with a very pleasant mood. Opposite that in which he had arrived. As Silence returned to my home I returned to the couch I'd been sitting in and picked up a book. Only after a few minutes did I notice that Vanessa was sitting across from me awkwardly.

"Something wrong?" I asked peering at her over the book's edge.

"Well," Vanessa blushed a violent shade of red. "I don't know... how to get out of this." She gently tugged at the skirt of the Dress.

"Oh." I do believe my heart stopped as I realized what she was modestly asking. " Well..." I found that my throat was dry and cleared it nervously. "... I think I could help you."

I rose to my feet and offered my hand in assistance for Vanessa to stand. She turned her back to me so that I could undo the lacing. I struggled in trying to keep my hands from shaking as I barely touched the knot. I made short work of it and helped loosen the corset beneath for her.

"There. You should be able to take care of the rest," I muttered, stepping away. Vanessa gave me a grateful backward glance as she relocated to her room, causing a surge of unnecessary lust to course through me. Once she was gone I quickly stepped into my private bathroom, turning the handle of the sink faucet. I quickly splashed my face with cold water to clear my senses. Damnable Erik, Damnable. I couldn't shake off the feeling and I reached for the music thrown about everywhere. No matter what I did, I couldn't shake her out of my head. In a last resort I reached for a glass vial in a black lacquer box next to the sink. I felt as though I'd fallen off of the top of the newly erected Eiffel tower. I expertly prepared a dose of morphine with a hypodermic needle.

I knew I had grown increasingly dependent since I'd lost Christine, but it was the only thing that kept me from harming others. I lifted the needle to my arm and muffled my sharp intake of breath as it punctured the vein. After a minute I'd slipped blissfully into a delusional oblivion. I collapsed into the wing backed chair, my loss of focus loosing me the ability to stand. The vial fell uselessly to the floor with a dull thud.

"Erik?" Vanessa's voice called from her doorway. Her look of pure fury and horror brought reality crashing around me. She flew into the room, once again in Christine's old night dress, looking every moment like an archangel of vengeance. Never had such an innocent garment seem so lascivious. I couldn't resist noting with intense interest the way it flowed with the movement of her curves. She picked up the bottle and gently removed the needle from my grasp. She tossed the needle and morphine on to the fire in one fluid sweep. The glass shattered with a deafening crash, the narcotic going up in a burst of flames. I gave a shout of rage. Flying to my feet, I seized Vanessa by her wrists.

"You little hussy!" I snarled. "Damn you!"

"You're hurting me, Erik," She snapped with a glare to shame a common thief.

"That's not the least of what I could do." I responded.

"I don't doubt it." Vanessa sneered. In a flash, the top of her head collided with my forehead, doubling me over. Her fist hit me on the small of the back, sending me sprawling.

"Are you nothing more than a murderer, Erik?" She said. Her breath came in harsh gasps; an elegant eyebrow was raised in a politely condescending fashion. I knew she didn't really mean it; she was simply making a point that hit home. My reasons, that she was the most fantastic woman I'd known, that she was the most irritating complication to my life, that for a few days now I'd been quietly dying inside, all this I could never tell her for fear of ruining what I had: Her friendship. Which I had bought at a great price. In extreme agitation I released her, leaning against the mantle and staring at the blaze within the hearth. The morphine had worn off too quickly. God forgive me, I wanted her love, her wit. I wanted her! Every annoying trait, every one of her insights into my soul, I wanted. Just to hold her to me without fear would be the greatest gift I'd ever been given.

"Erik..." Vanessa sighed. "There are other ways to forget pain and heartbreak without killing yourself." She stepped forward and rested her hand on my arm.

"Is there anything to remove this?" I asked bitterly, removing my leather mask. Silence reigned in the parlor.

"I refuse to play the pity game with you. I can't help you out of a hole if I jump in with you. Then we're both stuck," She whispered sadly. I swear I saw love for the first time, in her mournful eyes as she stared unflinching at my deformed face. "Your face is nothing to the ruins of a beautiful soul."

I couldn't breathe. Dare I hope that she felt the same for me? I stood motionless as she wrapped her arms around me in a reassuring embrace, yet I could hear her holding back tears.

"Vanessa, please... don't cry. I can't bear it..." I whispered. My heart melted as she hugged me tighter. "I'll always be here for you." My control waned and I lifted her face to mine, planting a gentle kiss on supplicating lips. Her warmth drew me closer to her. I didn't want to be the one in self control anymore. I didn't want to restrain or mask my feelings like the piece of white leather I customarily donned.

With surprise I noticed that Vanessa wasn't trying to pull away from me as I had expected. After all, what well brought up woman would want to be kissed by a monster? Strangely though, she welcomed my contact with her. I pulled her closer, daring anyone to come between us. Then, I pinned her to the wall, devouring her lips. A soft moan escaped from her as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

Nimbly she undid the buttons of my jacket and vest, her lips lightly brushing my marred cheek. My jacket and vest fell uselessly on the chaise.

"Let me show you what I meant by forgetting." Vanessa whispered, her breath brushing against my ear. Her thigh rose to brush against mine as I pressed myself against her, desperate it seemed, to be near her. I breathed in her scent as she deftly undid the starched white shirt I wore. Passionately I kissed her on the nape of her neck. Her resulting gasp of pleasure and surprise sent a shockwave through me. We separated for a moment as Vanessa led me to her room hurriedly.

I awoke the next morning to the whisper of Vanessa's gentle breathing. Her head was cradled against my chest and her left hand was curled lightly against my heart. A sigh of relief escaped me as I realized she was still here, after all that I had put her through. I ran my hand down the exposed skin of her back, its velvet smoothness whispering under my caress. I soundlessly slipped from the sheets and glanced at the mirror, checking the new claw marks I now sported on my back. I began re-donning my clothes as Vanessa's eyes fluttered open and a smile crept across her face.

"Are you all right?" she murmured.

"I thought you were asleep." I laughed quietly leaning forward and kissing her healing palm.

"Far from it." Her eyes lingered on my face with an expression I couldn't place. I felt a cold stone form in the pit of my stomach as she rose from the bed and slipped the night dress back on. She glided to the vanity and quickly combed her hair.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

Erik's figure stood in the reflection of the mirror I sat in front of. Silently I took in his half unbuttoned shirt and the chiseled form beneath. I had never really noticed how tall he was, about six' seven". Or how muscular. Despite that, his every move had always exuded elegance. My eyes returned to his face and I immediately placed the brush down, rising to my feet to take Erik's hands in mine.

"Erik, what's wrong? I sense you are ill at ease." I stated. Erik fixed me with a tender, solemn smile. Taking my face in his hands, he barely touched the skin on my forehead with his lips.

"Nothing."

"Erik... do not shut me out. Confide in me, please." I pleaded.

"Do you regret... us?" He asked softly, letting his fingers brush through the tips of my hair. I smiled.

"Regret? What regret?"

I was then deftly swept into a passionate embrace, all the emotions of joy and relief conveyed in his kiss. I could have stayed in that moment forever. He then released me, clearing his throat, and disappeared through the door. I quickly dressed. As I finished placing my suit on, a shiver of cold fear crept up my spine. I stepped out into the parlor and let a soft smile ease my heart. This place had inevitably become a home to me. I lightly let my fingers caress the sketches and items upon the mantel piece with a loving familiarity.

I walked into the kitchen where Erik was quietly preparing a pot of tea. His thoughts seemed just as lost as mine were.

"Erik..."

"Yes? What is it Vanessa?"

"Forgive me for being so bold, but... After all of this is over with...I feel that you need to leave this place. You could come with me, if you wish." I glanced away, uncertain what Erik's reaction would be. A muffled tap alerted me to the fact that Erik had placed the teapot back onto the table. A gentle hand cupped my chin and tilted my face towards the golden eyes I got lost in so easily.

"If _I_ wish, you say. Do you not mean that _you_ wish it?" His words were barely spoken over a hushed whisper. An inspiration came to me.

"Yes, I wish it. This place is gloomy, Erik, despite your talent at creating a marvelous home." I said. Erik couldn't suppress an amused chuckle. He then kissed me tenderly, melting me to my core. We stayed like that for god knows how long.

"Vanessa?!"

Meg's voice filled the room. Erik and I instantly parted. I turned a wide eyed look of shock towards Meg. She'd somehow crossed the lake without us knowing and was staring at me with an expression of mixed anger, surprise, and hurt.

"Nadir sent me," She said in a wavering voice. "I'm sorry for coming. I obviously caught you two at a bad moment." And with that she turned to the parlor and began her exit from the premises.

"MEG! Wait!" I called sprinting after her. I caught her crying in one of the tunnels.

"Meg, I..."

"Don't touch me!" She hissed at my hand about to rest on her shoulder.

"Meg..?" I could only trail off in disbelief.

"You knew I loved him, you knew! How could you?" She asked, disregarding the huge tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Yes, but you also said you wanted him to be happy. Is it a crime for two people to fall for each other?" I stated bracingly.

"Spare me your philosophical intuition." She snapped. Against her wishes, I gave her a warm hug.

"Oh Meg, I'm sorry. I can't change what has happened, and part of me doesn't want to. But If I had known that this would hurt you so much I'd never have even dreamed of being with him. You and I are friends; please understand that I have never felt the pain of unrequited love. It must be unbearable." I released her from my grasp.

"What irritates me the most is that it makes _sense_ that you two would belong to each other. You two are very much alike. You are both outcasts in society, he's a disfigured composer, and you are the only woman in a male dominated field of work. You both believe in many of the same things. You're two halves of the same whole. He's your shadow and you're his light. Next to you, I never stood a chance." Meg gave me a hurt glare.

"Meg, Erik is important to me. I know he's important to you. All of these years you've spent protecting him from people who would have exploited him. I honor that. I just now understand that kind of loyalty. Please Meg, don't be angry with him."

"I'm not angry, I'm hurt. I knew from the moment he sent that letter concerning you to the managers that you'd caught his eye. I don't know why I've held on to a dream that was over from the start."

"Oh Meg," I embraced her again, and this time she embraced me back.

"Is everything alright?" Erik's voice called down the tunnel.

"Yes!" Meg called back. Erik approached us with a kerosene lamp in hand. He looked at Meg in a brotherly way and I was amazed to see Meg take my hand and place it in his.

"Don't hurt her Erik, or I will personally kick your ghostly arse." She gave a watery laugh. The three of us returned to the underground home. We managed to have a quiet afternoon just talking about what had happened.

Later that night, I lay curled up in Erik's lap, his arms wrapped protectively around me. He was absentmindedly stroking my hair as I read aloud.

"I have something for you," He murmured.

"Really?" I asked in surprise. He then placed me on my feet effortlessly and got up himself. Leading me into the next room, he sat at the piano and began to play the song I had heard for the past month. He then started to sing the gorgeous song that brought me to tears of happiness. I let him finish.

"Your song, you've finished it!" I exclaimed in excitement. Erik grinned.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's amazing!"

"Good, because I wrote it for you." My breath caught. I started trembling in the overwhelming emotion that statement brought to me. "In case you haven't figured it out just yet, I love you Vanessa."

"Erik... I..." I stuttered. I was acting like a love sick girl. "I can't believe I'm saying this but, I love you also!" I finally exclaimed. I was embarrassing myself. Erik started laughing, pulling me to him to plant another of what I hoped to be a long string of kisses on my lips.

The next day was hectic. That night I was to go on stage playing the part of a ghost. I'd have to act the best I could in spite of my lack of expertise in this subject. Maybe that was why I felt so nervous, yet I could not shake the visions of failure out of my head. Meg and I laughed as she helped me back into Christine's old dress. I was at a peace that had eluded me since my childhood, and despite my nervousness about Carlotta, I was calm.

"Vanessa. You are glowing in a way I've never seen before." Meg giggled, pulling my hair behind my shoulders as I powdered my face white.

"I don't understand where you are getting that notion." I answered, with a wry smile. I then tucked my detective badge in the bodice of the gown. As soon as I'd finished my ghostly disguise Nadir arrived. He seemed flushed and excited.

"It's all ready," He grinned. "I've managed to get a few officers of the Surte on the lookout and Darrius is sitting in a balcony with my pistols, waiting for me to join him."

"Wonderful Nadir!" I stated. Nadir seemed to look pointedly at me.

"Vanessa, May I speak with you privately?" He asked. I nodded my acquiescence and Nadir gestured towards Erik's music room.

"I am picking up on a lack of tension between you and Erik." He said. I tensed. Surely he was going to defend his friend. "Allow me the chance to thank you."

"For what?" I was stunned. He was doing something I had never expected.

"I've always wished for my friend to know the joys of a true and deep love. Christine was sweet, but she required too much trickery on Erik's part to win her. She was never the woman for him. I knew you would be the one to match him, strength for strength." He answered. I blushed in embarrassment as he kissed my hand in thanks.

Meg and Nadir left after that in order to keep suspicion at a minimum.

* * * *

_The Persian, Nadir_

"Well, it's Showtime." I whispered as I caught up with Meg back stage. The place was hectic as dancers, singers, and stagehands all rushed about setting up for the beginning of act one. I had let Meg leave the dressing room a few minutes before me to keep questions from being asked by the other actors and ballerinas. She nodded in acknowledgement. The two of us had stony expressions as we dreaded and anticipated tonight's miniature Coup d'état in the Opera.

"I'm going to give Ledoux a heads up." I murmured, trying to look as if I was watching the buzz of activity backstage rather than talking to the Opera's ballet instructor. With that I slipped out into the audience. The Theater's auditorium was filled to bursting. The rich were filling the boxes with bright colored taffetas and black tuxedos. I made my way down one of the aisles to the back of the theater, weaving between the populous of patrons, where I quickly spotted Ledoux waiting. I could also see policemen in various positions, covering the stage in every angle they could get. Hopefully the lights on stage would blind Carlotta so that their uniforms wouldn't tip her off. Ledoux nodded when he spotted me; he had a very sour expression.

"Any news?" He asked, folding his arms in aggravation.

"Vanessa is on her way." I answered, surveying the crowd. "Wait for her to give you your next orders."

"That insufferable woman has better not be planning on making me look bad, or so help me..." Ledoux began through gritted teeth. "Absolutely no information to go on other than 'wait.' If you would just tell me who it is, I can go and get this all over with."

"Unfortunately, that is not going to work with catching this criminal. Everything will become clear in due time." I stated guardedly. I had a feeling this man felt threatened by Vanessa. Ledoux just huffed in exasperation. With a bow, I left the inspector and headed for my seats in the boxes to meet up with Darrius.

"Here we go, my friend. Are you ready for another epic adventure in the Paris Opera?" I teased as I sat down in the spare plush velvet seat. Darrius shook his head. I knew how he felt. The last time I got myself involved with the Opera, I had nearly drowned while attempting to save Christine Daae with Raoul. She ended up saving us. I glanced across towards the manager's box and found them staring at me expectantly. I nodded my head to let them know that everything was ready. Then the lights lowered. Let the games begin.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

An hour later, Erik and I departed to the higher levels of the building. We slinked from shadow to shadow, attempting to avoid all those under the employ of the opera. I don't think I've ever seen Erik so grave. Upon exiting the mirror in Christine's old dressing room, and slipping into the hall beyond, we were spotted by a stage hand nonchalantly patrolling the backstage dressing area. He stopped dumbfounded and if I hadn't stopped Erik, the fool would have most likely been dead.

Erik tensed for an attack and I instantly reached out to stop him. I then focused my attention to the quavering man, standing stock still. Silently and as paranormally as I could, I placed a finger to my lips, gesturing for silence from the man.

"Tell anyone of what you saw and I will personally haunt your sleep for the rest of your life, no rest shall you ever find." I murmured slyly. The stagehand turned tail and ran as fast as he could away from us.

"Not bad, I couldn't have done better myself." Erik whispered, gently giving my hand a squeeze. I just continued to the wings of the stage. Meg was already waiting for us, watching the show in anticipation as we approached.

"Wish me luck" I whispered in her ear as she turned to greet us silently.

"Luck..." Meg dimpled, and then drifted farther back to be a look out.

"I'll be right back." I said somberly.

"I'll be waiting right here." Erik stated. His eyes made my heart race as I turned to the stage.

"Tut, tut, Signora Giudicelli. You've been a very wicked woman." I stated off stage, interrupting a verse of Carlotta's. I then stepped on stage, to great gasps and whispers from the audience. Carlotta went livid, her complexion changing from pale rose to a mottled porridge. "Did you seriously think you were rid of me?" I laughed in a mocking tone. I started to circle her in a predatory fashion. I wasn't about to let her escape.

"It ees not possible! You couldn't possibly be...." Carlotta stammered audibly, causing another gasp from the crowd.

"Alive?" I spat. "Well I am sorry to have put a dampener on your plans, Signora," I saw her trembling. Her thoughts were obviously racing; I had seen it before in my other cases. "Just think, I almost suffered the same fate as the poor Count."

"Don't!"

"Don't what, Carlotta? Reveal to the world that you murdered the Count out of greed? That you ended the life of a man out of selfishness. You wanted to try and draw out someone who doesn't exist!" Gasps and whispers were echoing across the auditorium in waves as the scandal was revealed. I noticed that the Managers were arguing in whispers, obviously wondering about La Carlotta's contract.

"You bitch!"

"Carlotta Giudicelli, I formally charge you with one count of first degree murder for the death of the Count Francis de Sandersville and one count of attempted murder." I hissed as the whispers and sounds of shock grew to a crescendo. I pulled out my badge and flashed it authoritatively at her.

"Gentlemen of the Surte, if you would be so kind as to escort Signora Giudicelli to the city prison." Carlotta looked frantically about for a way out but her fellow actors closed in on her, keeping her from running offstage. Finally in an act of pure desperation, she lunged at me and dragged me to the floor. Pulling out my old gun, she pointed it at me, yanking me to my feet at the same time.

"Anyone tries to follow me, she dies!" She screamed to the approaching police. They stopped.

"ARREST HER, GODDAMNIT!" I screamed in irritation. I could see the hesitation on the police's faces and I saw Nadir leap to his feet, racing out of his box seat. I knew he was too far away to be of use. I saw Erik being held back by Meg, fighting to get free. I stared at him, catching his eye. I gave an imperceptible shake of the head, telling him to stay put. He couldn't be seen. Erik understood, though it was killing him to follow my instruction. Then in a rush of wind and black, she and I fell through a trapdoor on stage. After a rough landing that knocked the wind out of me I was dragged to my feet and further down into the storage cellars.

"Just couldn't simply die could you?" Carlotta snapped at me, throwing me against the wall of one of the tunnels. I crumpled to the floor, beaten and battered. Carlotta was a lot stronger than I had imagined a diva to be.

"GET UP!"

I slowly moved to fulfill the order, using the wall to support me. Finally, I fixed Carlotta with a venomous look. She stood angrily, pointing my revolver at me. Her green eyes had a murderous glint I recognized in all would be officer killers. Bracing myself, I listened as she shouted curses at me.

The gun shot rang through the cellars of the Opera Garnier with a thunderous boom. Once again I witnessed the strange sensation of time seeming to slow down, despite the high speed. I felt a pair of arms grab me from behind and spin me out of the bullet's path, tossing me to the side. I watched in stunned terror as Erik's form fell to the damp floor. I barely had time to register what I was doing. I leapt at the diva like a wild cat, grabbing her by the waist and wrestling her to the floor. I snatched my gun from her grasp and pointed it at her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter eight-**

**How to Say Goodbye**

_The Persian, Nadir_

I watched in stunned horror as Vanessa and Carlotta vanished into the Cellars below. I immediately opened the box in my hands and removed two pistols. I handed the box to Darrius and proceeded to the box door.

"Stay here, I will be right back," I ordered just before exiting the room. I raced to the stage. I had to find the Inspector or Vanessa would be in trouble. I found Meg fighting her way through the panicked riot of people. I didn't see Erik with her. This was not good. I grabbed her by the arm.

"Meg, where's Erik?" I asked, shouting to be heard over the screaming.

"I don't know! He disappeared after Vanessa was taken hostage." She shouted back. Fear filled her eyes as she stared at me. I knew exactly where he was.

"Help me find Ledoux! I'm going to need his help." I said, searching the mass of people on stage. It wasn't long before he and I mutually saw each other from across the stage. He and I pushed our way through the crowd to meet half way.

"What the hell just happened?" Ledoux shouted. He was followed by his team of policemen, thank Allah.

"I know where they are, I've spent years searching this Opera house in search of the Phantom... especially the cellars." I stated. Ledoux gave me a calculating glare.

"Lead the way." He ordered. With that we went to the nearest staircase to the lower parts of the theater. Armed with our pistols and lamps, we began a search and rescue. Knowing Carlotta, if we didn't hurry, she would be dead for killing Vanessa.

* * * *

_Vanessa_

"As I said, you are under arrest, now for two counts of attempted murder and one murder. Care to give up now?" I growled. The sounds of pounding feet grew as Nadir and his Persian man servant, Darrius, joined the scene, followed by several Surte. They fettered a raging, screaming Carlotta and dragged her up to the Paris streets. I then dropped to Erik's side, tearing the dress to make an improvised bandage.

"Mon dieu, you're bleeding badly." I shook, pressing the makeshift gauze to the profuse fount of crimson. "Nadir, get a doctor quick!" I cried, looking at the baffled Persian with a pleading expression.

"Vanessa..." Erik began, stopping to cough up blood.

"Lie silent now. You're hurt. We're getting you a physician." I stated soothingly, taking his hand in mine.

"Vanessa, it's pointless. They can't do anything for me and you know it. Besides, it's for the best. I've wished for death for a long time." Erik continued firmly.

"Don't talk like that! I won't tolerate it! You are far too important..." I stated matter-of-factly. Erik began to laugh roughly, only stopping to cough up more blood.

"Important?" Erik whispered.

"...To me!" I exclaimed.

"That is the most touching thing anyone has ever said. Vanessa, know that you are a woman who has been truly loved." He raised a hand weakly and rested it against my cheek. "I am glad that we met." I leant forward and kissed him tenderly. I pulled away as he started to cough again. I knew I couldn't disillusion myself into believing he would live.

"Oh Christ, Erik, I don't want you to die!" I said hoarsely fighting back the tears welling up in my eyes and trying to control the ache in my heart.

"Damn it, it hurts like hell.' He muttered. Closing his eyes, I rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was painfully slow and his breathing was shallow. Sobs wracked my body as tears began to mingle with the blood already soaking Erik's shirt.

"Erik, I love you. Please don't give up on me." I said tamely. Erik opened his beautiful, gold flamed eyes, and calmly stared at me. "There's no one in the world I would ever be able to love, except you." I delicately removed his mask and kissed his brow. I barely breathed. Tears fell in great drops, I couldn't hold them back. I'd lost a lot of people, but none of them were as dear as him.

"Vanessa..." He began, a bittersweet smile creeping across his features. I felt him slip something in my hand. I glanced at my palm. Sitting there was a ring I recognized as the one that used to rest on the piano in his music room. "I was planning on asking you tonight." He murmured. Folding my palm around it, I knelt there beside Erik and watched as his eyes drifted shut, never to open again, knowing that his love was the reason I was still alive.

In a dignified manner, I folded his hands against his chest and smiled through my tears. Nadir returned bringing with him Meg and a doctor. At a glance I saw that they both knew that Erik was gone. Meg immediately threw her arms around me and started crying as I buried my sobs in her shoulder. Nadir couldn't take the sight and turned away, his eyes watery. Meg released me to see my face. I stared at my hand, the ring sparkling in it. Meg gasped despite her own tears. The sense of loss deepened, turning me hollow.

"Mademoiselle, he doesn't look well." I felt sick. I wanted to leave. Slowly, I rose to my feet.

"Doctor, surely you can see that he is dead." I sighed.

"Who was he?"

"He is one of a kind. _He is Erik_." I responded. Nadir took me by the elbow while Meg wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, and together they guided me to the surface. On the Opera steps, a riotous crowd of news reporters and spectators barraged me with questions and hailed me as the hero of the Paris Opera, finally catching the murderer. Everyone assumed Carlotta was the Phantom, because she had everything to gain from the 'murders' she committed. They didn't know about Erik. And they never would.

"Detective, what lead you to believe that La Carlotta was the Phantom?" a reporter shouted.

"There never was a Phantom, and as far as I'm concerned the only viable proof states that Carlotta killed only Count Francis."

"BUGGER OFF! She's had a hard day." Meg snapped at the horde and, with Nadir's help, she got me into a carriage for home. I was numb.

"Detective..."

I turned to see Chief- Inspector Ledoux staring at me with a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and apology.

"Yes, inspector?" I asked as he approached.

"I must apologize to you." He answered. He extended a hand to me. "Good work. You are an impressive woman."

"Thank you." I answered, shaking his hand. Nadir and Meg placed me in a carriage, climbing in after me. A few minutes later, I barely registered Nadir and Meg guiding me out of the carriage as a horrified Natalie raced out the front door.

"What happened?" She asked, not getting an answer. She immediately led the way into the house to the stairs and up to my bedroom where I was forced to lie down without much of a fight. I stared at the ceiling overhearing what the three were whispering.

"Should I call a doctor?" Natalie squeaked.

"No, she's not hurt physically. She needs to be alone for a while." Nadir murmured sadly.

"Like hell I'm leaving her alone!" Meg hissed. "She lost her _Fiancée_! There is no way she needs to be alone!"

"I can hear all of you. I'm fine." I said wryly. I heard a collective gasp as the two women beamed in joy. Meg raced to my side taking my hand as Natalie sat on my other side.

"Are you sure, Hon? I mean.... with Erik..." Meg couldn't even finish her sentence. I just stared at her in an empty stare. I think I was in shock. All I knew was I wanted the pain to go. And I didn't care how. Natalie's hand took mine and something about having that unquestioning compassion brought me to tears again. The two women immediately embraced me. Before long I was asleep.

**Epilogue**

The case raised me to new heights in fame. I was Paris' resident hero, the woman who had caught the infamous Phantom of the Opera. I knew in my heart that each one of my increasing list of clients would expect the same magic, the same talent. Yet, my life would never be as whole as when I was with Erik. I could still perform beyond expectation, but I took no pride in it. After many press reports, where I told most of the facts, and fabricated others, I couldn't even walk down the street without some civilian recognizing me. A few months passed and Carlotta was convicted. I couldn't hide my happiness when the verdict was read and the woman was hauled off to the Bastille. It was far from what the woman fully deserved.

The three of us sat in the house by the lake one day, Meg sipping coffee, Nadir pacing, and I was reading the L'Echo, rolling my eyes in disgust by how many times I saw my name in the papers.

"You would think Paris would get tired of me," I scoffed. Meg smiled knowingly. "Nadir, will you stop pacing like that?"

"I'm waiting for someone." he announced. That caught my curiosity.

"Who?"

"An old friend..." He murmured abstractly.

At that moment, the alarm bell rang, announcing the approach of a visitor. I tensed. Who knew where Erik's home lay besides Nadir, Meg, and me? As a knock rang on the door, the answer hit me.

"Bonjour Madame De Chagney, welcome back." Nadir greeted the Countess Christine. I felt stunned by her appearance.

Then nausea hit me as it had been more frequently prone to in the past few months. "Excuse me." I hurriedly blurted as I ran to the bathroom. I found myself leaning over a sink as my stomach did a cartwheel. Once my stomach had quieted, I heard Meg call through the door.

"Vanessa, are you alright?" She cracked open the door and poked her head inside.

"Yes I'm fine. I just keep feeling sick at odd times of the day. It's been going on since Carlotta's arrest," I replied. "And that's not the only thing. I think the stress is getting to me because.... well, my monthlies have stopped."

Suddenly Meg's face turned to a suspicious expression. She then plopped herself next to me on the bathroom floor.

"Vanessa, tell me honestly. Did you and Erik do... anything?" Her voice was filled with playful suspicion. I blushed immediately, remembering that one night I had lost myself willingly.

"Oh my god, you did!" Meg gasped, bursting into giggles. She then jumped to her feet and shouted out the door. "Christine, get in here! No Nadir, Not you!" The former singer made an appearance soon after and Meg was positively beaming.

"What is it? Are you alright, Vanessa?" Christine asked sincerely, placing a cool palm to my head.

"She's pregnant!" Meg blurted conspiratorially. Christine's expression froze. Then slowly, like a spring thaw, a smile creased her lips.

"That's wonderful! Wait... Is Erik..?" There was no need for her to finish the query. I nodded in a bewildered fashion. I was pregnant? I had a new life inside me, slowly growing into a child with its father's eyes and intellect. As the knowledge sinked in, it grew on me. I knew then I'd never be rid of the Opera Garnier. I'd never be free from the history I'd been a part of. It had given me a new life, one that in a few short months would be filled with even more joy. I realized, as Meg and Christine dragged me into the parlor and announced the news to Nadir in overly excited tones, and as he then spun me around the room in joy, I was blessed. Blessed to have met these amazing people. Blessed to have loved him.


End file.
